Even Gods Must Walk
by Melanie AE
Summary: Imhotep has returned into the world, this time under the instruction of Anubis, God of Death. Amunet, a restoration artist, finds herself pulled along on an adventure with the O'Connell family and the Mummy. Little does she know that this adventure may have more to offer her than just thrills, and when Gods walk the Earth, mortals must learn to run.
1. Rise of Imhotep

**((Just a quick note, this takes place after the 2****nd**** Mummy movie))**

Air, fresh and untainted by the stench of rotting souls, filled his lungs. His bare chest rose, a long withered wail leaving his chapped lips. Imhotep's eyes opened, but only a small fraction, as the large desert sun starred down at him, burning his skin and bringing pain to his eyes. Rolling onto his side, the hot sand sticking to his sweaty skin, the tall Egyptian pushed himself to his feet only to fall to his knees. The immortal was drained, his energy fleeing him.

Bringing a hand to his head, he looked around him and saw nothing but sand, endless waves of heat rising from the desert to boil him from below. But even the familiar heat of Egypt did not amount to the fires of Hell that he had-

Imhotep's eyes widened upon the realization of where he really was. The surface. Out of the scorching heat of the Underworld. He fell forward, his hands digging into the sand as if he were trying to ground himself to the reality that he was free. He remembered the scalding heat that surrounded him, the thin, claw like fingers of the souls that tore at his flesh. He looked down at his arms, as if expecting to see white scars lining his body, only to see the golden flawless skin that had dawned him before his ventures into Hell.

The very memory of the place shook him, causing him to block out the memories to focus on centering his energy on standing on his own two feet. A few minutes, countless breaths of hot Egyptian air, and he stood, looking around him once more. Alive. That was what he was, and that was all that mattered. If possible, a small smile seemed to dawn his broken lips only to be replaced by a concentrated and confused frown moments later.

He had not felt mortal exhaustion since his days in the Pharaoh's house all those centuries ago. If he was feeling as lifeless and tired as he did, then…his powers, were they extinguished? Stretching out his hand, Imhotep closed his eyes, breathing in the sand landscape, focusing his mind and soul. The sand around him spun, the flakes of sand skittering across the desert ground, scratching his feet until they took flight around him, forming a large tunnel. His hand dropped, the sand falling in showers around him. He shook, feeling like the world was spinning, but he breathed a breath of relief.

Not powerless, but worn. It made some sense. One did not simply leave the Underworld without some repercussions. As for being immortal, that was one question that he himself could not answer or test. He turned his gaze out to the shimmering desert horizon. It was time that he set out on his journey. Cairo would not be far. From his last visit to this time he had gathered some information on where the ancient cities resided and where the new ones were born. How much time had passed since his damnation into Hell, he did not know. Closing his eyes once more, Imhotep allowed the land to speak to him, letting it guide him towards where he wished to go.

It had only been a few minutes since his arrival to the surface and his energy was already building up. In only a few seconds, he would be able to travel at the speed of the Gods. And all very well, he would not be able to tolerate the pain staking slowness of traveling by foot. As if a 'man' such as himself would travel like the pests that littered the earth. He was Imhotep, he was High Priest, he was…someone else's servant for the time being. Thoughts of his time in the fiery pit crept back into his mind, making his skin crawl. No, no he would not dwell on it. He would fulfill his quest. And perhaps along the way, he would meet the O'Connell man and woman. There was little he did not think of doing to them. Plans shattered repeatedly by the cursed mortals. But not this time. He had superiors to answer to this time. And what consequences he thought were dire before, were now magnified ten-fold.

Imhotep closed his eyes once more, turning his attention to finding Cairo. There was nothing in his contract that suggested that he would be subtle in his dealings. He would bring whatever plagues he could, whatever foul disasters, anything to announce his arrival. He would remind the people of Egypt who he was, and take pleasure in his revenge.


	2. Call to the O'Connells

"Really Rick, must you do that at the table?"

Rick O'Connell looked up from his gun, which he had been in the middle of cleaning. His wife, who had her glasses perched on the end of her nose, was sitting at the other end of the table, giving him a pleading look while nibbling at her salad.

"What? You can read during dinner but I can't play with my toys?" he said, pointing his gun at the book that Evy had leaned up against the water pitcher. Evy tugged the book closer to her, taking her glasses of in exasperation.

"Oh really Rick! This is an account of all the mummifications during the reign of King Tut! It is highly important to my research and can't be said to cause as much damage at the dinner table as one of your 'toys'." She answered indignantly. Rick sighed, tucking his gun into his suit belt much to the disapproval of Evy, turning his attention to their son.

"Learn anything educational in your lesson's today Alex?" he asked, swiveling his head in Evy's direction at the word 'educational'. Alex, who had grown at least two feet in the past year, looked up from his dinner to grimace at his father.

"Just about some boring war in America." He answered back. Evy smothered a laugh at this as Rick's eyebrows shot up. Both of Alex's parent's tried to have an equal influence over their son's education, providing a varied mixture of English and American History lessons. It was something of an ongoing battle between the O'Connells. But only at the age of twelve, Alex had proven to only be interested in everything Egyptian, from the language to the history. Neither of his parents could dispute on his interest there. They really were not ones to talk.

"American history is very important," Rick said, throwing Evy a look as his leaned back in his chair. "Even if your mother would beg to argue." Evy opened her mouth in mock insult.

"I condone all studies! When have I ever said anything to suggest that?"

"When you told Dad that 'you wouldn't go living in a savage New World such as America' before we moved to England," Alex said, poking his chicken with his fork. Rick tweaked his eyebrows at Evy as if to say, 'the kid's got you there'. Evy closed her book, rolling her eyes, deciding to leave the topic as it was. Just in time as well. The doors to the dining room burst open, startling to O'Connell's into their defensive positions, Rick with his gun out and cocked and Evy grasping at Alex's hands.

"Johnathan?"

Sure enough, a disgruntled Jonathan stood in the doorway with the footman panting behind him. There had obviously been no formal introduction for him planned. Johnathan's shirt was untucked and dirty with what the O'Connell's recognized as desert sand. His face was red and sweaty, hair in disarray and lips chapped. They all could have guessed where he had come from. Despite his coward-like tendencies, Johnathan's greed could always be counted on to take him back to Egypt.

Evy stood up and rushed to her brother, grasping at his shoulders as the footman stepped forward, having caught his breath. "I am sorry Miss, he just came barging in-"

"No, no it is quiet alright, Johnathan was never one for formalities," Evy said, dragging her brother over to the chair that Alex had pulled out for him. "Get your Uncle some water Alex," she said, fanning her brother and herself for good measure. Rick made his way around the table and squatted down with Evy so that they were both at eye level with Johnathan.

"Oh heavens Johnathan what have you gotten yourself into now?" Evy moaned, slapping her brother's cheek in an attempt to get him awake and talking. He was still gasping for breath, moving his arms and hands wildly in an attempt to communicate.

"Come on Johnny spit it out!" Rick shouted, his hand gripping his pistol, the only way he felt like he was in control of the situation. Alex rushed award, handing his Uncle a large glass of water while clutching the pitcher in his other hand. Johnathan gulped the water down, some of it sloshing down his front, gasping for breath and lowering the glass rapidly.

"IMHOTEP!"

The name made both O'Connell's freeze, leaving little Alex to drop the pitcher at the very sound of the name. Water seeped into the carpet, but at this point no one cared. Evy gripped her brother's shoulder while reaching instinctively for her husband's hand.

"What are you taking about Johnathan?"

"Just what I said! Imhotep! Back! Causing a bloody panic in Cairo, just like old times," he answered, desperately trying to lap up some of the remaining water from the glass. Rick grabbed the front of Johnathan's shirt, pulling him forward.

"We are gonna need a little bit more than that Johnny." Johnathan's head bobbed about as Rick shook him.

"I was at a dig." Which usually meant he was pickpocketing an excavation team, "We were heading back to Cairo when I saw it. Bugs, sand twisters, you name it! Like it was the bloody end of the world! People screaming and hiding and in the thick of it all was-"

"Imhotep," Evy finished, her face growing pale. Johnathan nodded.

"I wouldn't forget that bald head anywhere." He said as Rick released him. Rick looked at Evy, whose mouth was pressed in a hard line.

"How many times to we have to kill that son of a bitch?" Rick asked, earning a hard slap to the shoulder from Evy, who jerked her head in Alex's direction.

"I don't know how he could have survived! We saw him get dragged into Hell for goodness sake!" she whispered, either from terror or because she did not want Alex to hear. "But even so, it must be him! And he isn't powerless as Johnathan as confirmed. I honestly can't say what could have happened to bring him back! Well I guess figuring that out is our job…"

"What?" Rick said, giving her an exasperated look. Evy looked at him full on, her eyes wide.

"Yes, our job Rick! Who can be more accountable for what Imhotep does than us?" Rick stood, pacing back and forth, as if that would help her see sense.

"Evy are you crazy? Why would we run head on into the guy?! You heard Johnathan! He's making it rain bugs over there!" Evy joined Rick in standing, but walked right up to him, shaking her fists passionately.

"And what makes you think we will be safe if we stay here? He has more reason to come looking for us than anyone else! Isn't it just better to try and figure out what is going on at once? Perhaps Ardeth might know something-"

"And I suppose you want to take Alex with us?" Rick bellowed, gesturing to their son who still stood frozen in shock. Evy shook her head.

"No of course not! Johnathan will take him somewhere safe!"

"I second that motion!" Johnathan cut in, slumping further into his chair. Rick twirled his pistol, glaring down at Evy who he could see was not going to change her mind. Running a hand through his hair, he sucked in his cheeks, did a full 360 before making a growling muttering something about them getting themselves killed. Evy, knowing that it was a difficult decision, went up on her tip toes and offered a kiss.

"I couldn't live with myself if we left Egypt the way is. For all we know it could be something that we did."

"When is it not?" Rick muttered, tucking his pistol in his belt and walking off to start packing their things. Evy sighed, turning to find Alex starring up at her. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't you worry about anything Alex. Your father and I are going to sort all of this out." She said, attempting to offer the most comforting smile she could. "Uncle Johnathan in going to take care of you while we are away." Alex looked to his Uncle, who was pathetically fanning himself in the chair.

"But when are you going to be back?" he asked. "Can't I come with you?" Evy felt her lips quiver and forced a laugh.

"Oh my brave little man. Maybe when you are older." Alex straightened his back in an attempt to make himself taller.

"But what if there are not mummies to chase?" he asked, pleading look in his eyes. Evy pecked him on the cheek, standing up and taking his hands in hers.

"With your father still alive there were always be mummies to chase."

"Hey, you were the first to raise one." Rick called from the next room. Both Evy and Alex laughed for a moment before they exchanged worried glances. Evy shook herself, kicking her brother's leg. "Come on Alex dear, Johnathan is going to help you pack."


	3. Safehouse

Imhotep could hardly breathe let alone stand. The Christians believed that God created the world in seven days. Well, if that was true, than he had destroyed Cairo in less time than that. The sands had ground the walls of the city, scratches appearing the sides of buildings as if large fingers and left them there. Food was the home of every insect, water was dark with pestilence, the air hot and clouded with sand, preventing anyone from seeing three feet ahead of them. Those who had not survived lay in the streets, making it even harder to breath with the stench of the dead. Screams still seemed to echo in the air.

And yet, through all the torture and the pleasure he received from it, Imhotep felt dead. While his strength had gathered that day in the desert, he had drained it once more through the exertion of the combined plagues. He was not as strong as he had thought. He lusted for the days when he did not feel this crippling weight on his shoulders.

The sand storm he had conjured would last at least another two days and would allow him to make his way without being seen. He made his way along the wall of the building he had chosen to be his hide away until he had gathered his strength. Finding the door, he pressed himself against it, only to find it locked. Frustration making his muscles exert themselves to one final act, he threw himself at the wooden door, breaking it open, falling onto a smooth marble floor, hitting his head.

A wave of sand followed him, scrapping its way up his legs, making the entire room shudder. His muscles begged for rest, leaving him stranded on the floor, his eyes lids fluttering. They remained open however to see a pair of thin ankles rush past him to the door. The howling of the wind and sand stopped as the figure managed with some difficulty to shut the door, pushing something in front of it in order to stop it from flying off the broken frame.

The next thing Imhotep knew, he was being rolled onto his back, his body limp and providing no defense to him. He looked up at the figure hovering over him to find the brown eyes of a young woman. Her hair was the color of gold, falling over one side of her neck, slightly brushing against Imhotep's bare chest. Her skin was the color of the desert. Her entire appearance caught the High Priest off guard, but he was unable to react, his head lolling to the side as he fell into a stupor.

* * *

Imhotep's eyes opened slowly, his entire body sore. It took him a moment to remember what happened and sat up to find himself in a makeshift bed. Looking around, he found himself surrounded by familiar Egyptian Art. Pots painted with the images of men fishing and woman catching birds, walls covered in elegantly painted hieroglyphics. They were all artfully done, some of them looking as old as he was. He moved to stand when someone spoke from the door way. He looked up to see the young woman standing in the doorway with a clay bowl in her hands and a worried expression on her face.

She was a strange breed of woman, the eyes, skin, and nose of an Egyptian, but with hair that was seemingly made of gold. She was half hidden by the frame of the door, looking at Imhotep with wide eyes. She was so small, looking as if she might break into a million pieces just by taking a single step. It was a wonder that she could have gotten him onto the bed all on her own.

Words came quietly from her mouth, reaching his ears but his was unable to understand any of them they were so light and airy. She took a step forward, causing Imhotep to move hastily to stand, only causing him to fall against the bed. He glared at the woman, arms shaking as he tried to support himself. Her eyes looked worried and afraid, as she should have been. She took a breath and rushed forward, taking his arm and helping him settle against the pillows. Imhotep watched her with narrow eyes.

She must have been the servant of the master of the home. At this idea, he did nothing to stop her from dabbing at his forehead with a cool cloth. He closed his eyes as the icy feeling rushed down to relieve his temples. The girl spoke, her phrase lifting at the end to indicate that she had asked him a question.

"You speak a language I do not know." He said, the Ancient Egyptian rolling off his tongue effortlessly, knowing that it would be useless. The girl paused, staring at him with wide eyes. She quickly changed her language into ancient Egyptian, which surprised him. The pathetic mortals that roamed the earth could hardly speak proper Egyptian let alone the tongue of his time.

"Are you alright?" Such a personal question. Why would she inquire that? He turned his head away, refusing her an answer. Instead of becoming offended she nodded her head, continuing to speak. "You must have had a fright, being caught out there. It is terrifying." Imhotep glanced at the windows and saw that they had been boarded up or covered with cloth to prevent the sand from entering. She again dabbed at his forehead, gently tracing the cold cloth down the side of his face.

Imhotep went perfectly still at this. The gentle touch of a woman. He had not felt such a feeling since…Anck-su-Namun. The very thought of her seemed to rip his chest apart. His face contorted into displeasure, causing the woman to remove the cloth, fearing that she had hurt him.

"Do…do you have a name?" Imhotep turned, irritated with the servant girl. She was dressed in a white dress, sleeves covering the entirety of her arms, the fabric reaching the middle of her shins. Perhaps she was not the servant girl. The way she was acting, so formal and forward…He needed a place to rest and it would do nothing to benefit him if he killed her. It was not as if after all the destruction he caused that he would have the energy to do so anyway. But he remained stubborn and jerked his chin at her, repeating the rough Egyptian word at her.

"Name?"

The girl paused, taken aback that he refused to give her any information about himself. She pulled back and offered a nervous smile.

"Amunet." Imhotep blinked. Such an ancient name; Egyptain. And yet, her hair was the color of riches. Half breed. He continued to watch her as she wrung the cloth out and wiped away the sand that was sticking to his neck. A long moment of silence before…

"Imhotep."

Amunet looked up in surprise. She had apparently not expected a name from him. He glared at her, raising a hand and touching his chest. "Imhotep."

"Imhotep," Amunet repeated, her tongue tripping over the word. She thought over it for a moment before blinking and offering him a kind smile. She stood, taking the bowl and backing out of the room.

"I will find you some food...Imhotep." He watched her leave, the idea of something to eat pleasurable to his mind. He rested his head against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. Even there, there were paintings, drawings of the sun God Ra, traveling across the sky. A few minutes and Amunet was back with a bowl of fruit, a goblet of milk and some bread and cheese. Sitting back down alongside him, she offered a small bunch of grapes, dropping them into his hands. He lifted them to his lips and took them into his mouth, closing his eyes as he popped each one in between his teeth, the flavors washing over his tongue. I was a surprise that the insects had not found her food. Perhaps she had stored them away, or this was the last of her good food.

He could hardly remember the last time he had eaten anything. He did not have to as far as he knew, but the experience was a memorable one. Amunet continued to offer him food, every so often reaching behind his head to tilt his forward and pressing the milk to his lips. He reached up, grasping her wrist to encourage her to give him more at a time. A red coloring rose to her cheeks at this and she put the glass down, taking a little of the fruit for herself. They ate silently, their unfamiliarity a barrier to any conversation.

After a little while, Amunet stood and walked over to one of the windows that was covered with cloth and peeked outside. Turning back to Imhotep she opened her mouth. "Night."

Already? Imhotep moved to get up but Amunet rushed towards him, pushing him back against the pillows. She spoke to him while she found a thin sheet to drape over him. "You should stay here. Sleep. You are still weak and I can hardly turn you out with that storm." He closed his eyes as Amunet went around the room, blowing out each of the candles before stopping at the door to look back at him, hesitancy and curiosity glazed over her dark eyes.

"Goodnight, Imhotep."


	4. Sleepless in Cairo

Amunet could not sleep at all that night. She had not been able to sleep for a long while with all the sand storms and horrible things that had been happening, but now she had a strange Egyptian man in her bed! She sat in the large bathroom, seated on a stool, brushing her hair in front of the mirror, surrounded by polished marble. It seemed to calm her down, brushing her hair. It had been something her mother had done when she was very little whenever she was upset. That and the cool feeling of her hair against her shoulders felt nice. Her nightgown was light and sleeveless, seeing and the temperatures loved to fluctuate in Cairo, but it was something she had grown up with.

She was born in Egypt, her mother a native from England, her father a pure blooded Egyptian. And although she had lived there her entire life, the language was still hard. Her father had taught her the ancient format for whatever reason. She had had to depend on her own wits after both her parent's died to learn the simplified Egyptian that was spoken now. She wondered how on earth Imhotep could possibly know such a dialect of Egyptian. He looked nothing like a scholar but who was she to judge?

She had been shocked to find the shirtless man sprawled in her entryway but she couldn't simply leave him there or toss him back out into the sand storm! It was a miracle that his skin had not been torn to shreds by the merciless wind that was throwing the sand at a millions miles per hour.

Trailing her hand down her silky waves, she turned slightly to the side to see her Eye of Horus tattoo on her upper arm. Putting her hair brush down, she trailed her fingers along the tattoo. Her father had her receive it when she was very little. It had grown bigger as she did. He had had one as well. She never questioned it. It felt like some family tradition, passed down through her father's side of the family seeing as her mother did not have one.

At the thought of her parents she quickly began to brush her hair again, as if trying to comb away the sadness that began to fill her head. They had been dead for at least ten years and yet the very thought of them stung her heart. The brush slipped from in-between her fingers, skittering across the floor to land at the base of the sink. Leaning down, she grasped the ivory brush and sat up, to find Imhotep's reflection joined with hers in the mirror.

Letting out a small scream, Amunet whirled around in her seat, gripping her shoulders defensively, feeling exposed in her nightgown. "I-Imhotep!" she stuttered, the color draining from her face. He was so intimidating, standing there in the doorway, leaning against it, apparently not fully well. "You should be sleeping, what are you-" But her words were only met with a blank stare. Amunet swallowed. She stood uncertainly, still gripping her comb.

"You are…not tired?" she ask, twisting her golden hair through her fingers, feeling like a fool. Imhotep met her brown eyes with a glare, turning Amunet's face a bright pink. Part of her regretted letting him stay, something told her that he was dangerous. His eyes trailed to her shoulders making Amunet take a step back, bumping up against the sink. He pointed at her shoulder where her tattoo was imprinted along her tan skin, moving forward still, causing Amunet to lean even farther into the cold surface of the sink.

"The Eye of Horus." Amunet looked down at the tattoo and then back at Imhotep. She nodded her head, as if to confirm that it was indeed the Eye of Horus. Imhotep walked towards her, reached for her shoulder, moving her hand away to trace his thumb over the black ink, brow furrowed in concentration. Was it really that strange of a tattoo? Shudders crawled up and down Amunet's arm as Imhotep's fingers lightly brushed her skin. He seemed to notice this, his eyes flickering to hers for a moment before he pulled away, giving her a curious look. After the heat had faded from her face, she quickly moved around his tall figure, hands gripping whatever she could find to propel her along her desired path around the Egyptian man. Clearing her throat, she moved past him out of the bathroom, his dark eyes following her in what seemed to be amusement.

"Come, you really must return to bed..."

Imhotep followed her, but slumped against the door frame. Amunet turned and quickly put his arm around her shoulder's to help him back to her room, avoiding all eye contact. They entered her room once more and Imhotep released himself from her, making his way to the mural on the wall instead of the bed.

"Your work?" he asked, looking up and down at the mural. Amunet, wringing her hands, nervously stepped forward.

"Yes." She answered, her eyes traveling from Imhotep to the wall. "I work to restore ancient art but sometime…I create my own." Imhotep leaned forward, tracing his fingers over the hieroglyphics that she had added along the lines of the pyramids. She once again felt color rising in her cheeks. She did not have many people look at her own work. Often times she would simply restore recovered artifacts, and not many ventured into her personal room to view her murals. Imhotep said nothing, simply looked around the wall, leaving Amunet stranded in the middle of her own room, twisting her hands together and biting her lip. Was he going to say nothing? Part of her wanted him to say nothing.

Shaking herself, she nervously moved forward, clearing her throat. Imhotep turned his head ever so slightly, his eyes flashing making Amunet's heart leap into her throat. She weakly gestured toward the bed, her face pale.

"P-please," she stuttered, "You should go to bed. It's the middle of the night and-" Imhotep turned his entire body towards her, making her words catch in her throat.

"Why are _you_ awake? Must women stay the night away brushing their hair?" Amunet flinched. How long had he been watching her? Her mouth did not seem to work properly underneath the dark gaze of the man before her. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she swallowed.

"I couldn't sleep." She answered, grinding her teeth.

"I as well." Imhotep answered, his eyes drooping. Only then did Amunet notice the dark circles that were underneath his eyes.

"Well, you should try." She moved towards the bed, trying to be assertive and gesturing once more to the sheets. Imhotep let out a long breath, moving towards the bed with a hard expression. Amunet helped him into the thin sheets, making sure that his head was well supported. Imhotep looked irritated, probably from her dotting on him. Removing her hands, she stepped back, suddenly feeling exhausted herself. "Try to sleep. This storm will let up soon and then you can go home to your family. I am sure they are worried." Imhotep looked at her with an expression that cut Amunet to the bone.

It was a look that she herself knew all too well. She saw it every morning in the mirror. It was the expression who was utterly alone in the world. Taking in a shuddering breath, she turned and quickly walked out of the room, feeling rattled. There was more to this man that met the eye.


	5. Arrival

"This guy doesn't do anything half ass!" Rick called to Evy, perched atop his camel and looking down at Cairo. From as far away as they were, they were out of the huge sand cloud that covered only the city. It was very centralized. They could hardly see that buildings that they hoped were still there.

Evy ignored her husband's crude language and twisted her turban a little tighter, pulling it across her mouth in order to prevent sand from entering. "It's been my experience that Imhotep will do anything for Anuck-Su-Namun." Rick looked over his shoulder, eyebrow cocked.

"You still think that's what he's doing?" Evy did not reply at once, indicating that she had reserves about her theory.

"Well I can hardly think what else it might be! Unless there is some other 'all-powerful' thing that he is trying to gain control of. I just wish he would take a few centuries off!" Rick shook his head, turning his attention back to the sand covered city.

"We can't just barge in without a plan that's for sure," he muttered, pulling out his shot gun and resting it across his knee, feeling more in control with the power to shoot someone. Evy kicked her camel lightly on the sides in order to stop alongside Rick. She bit her lip, thinking hard.

Knowing that there was not going to be any real plan, Rick kicked his camel smartly, heading down the dunes towards the sand cloud. Evy let out a groan, following Rick briskly, feeling very uneasy about what they were heading towards.

* * *

No one that was in the streets was alive. Only lifeless bodies lay in piles, collecting flies. Some people had pulled the bodies towards their doors to prevent sand from coming in through the bottom. The smell was enough to get Rick to pull his coat collar over his nose. The sand was like a sharp fog, blinding Evy and Rick. Their camels wobbled uneasily in the harsh storm, grunting indignantly.

"We'll never find him in this!" Evy called, gripping her reins tightly, her skin red and raw from the sand. "We need to find someplace to wait out the storm!" Rick nodded, waving his hand and gesturing towards a large building not too far that looked like some kind of abandoned bar. "Of course…" Evy muttered, rolling her eyes at her husband's choice of shelter.

A few minutes later, they had managed to coax the camels inside, not having the heart to leave them in the storm. Rick tore the turban from his head and shook the sand from his hair. Evy unloaded the camels, spitting out mouthfuls of sand. "Now what do we do?" she asked, feeling lost and unsure. With their other encounters with Imhotep, they had known his purpose and were immediately able to format some kind of plan. But at the moment, they were running blind.

"Now, we wait for the storm to let up," Rick panted, going over to the abandoned bar and reaching over the counter to grab a bottle. Evy pressed her lips together in obvious protest, but allowed him to take a few swigs before walking over and taking the bottle from him.

"And if it doesn't? What if he is using this sandstorm as some kind of cover?"

"Since when does our Mummy ever resort to hiding?" Rick scoffed, taking the bottle back and taking another long drink. Evy put her hands on her hips and paced in front of him, eyes concentrated on the floor.

"Never! He has always been one for show! Flaunting his powers and making a scene were ever he goes. Unless," Evy stopped in her tracks, eyes widening and a triumphant look coming over her. She reached out and stopped Rick from lifting the bottle to his lips again. "What if he's weakened? Maybe that's why he's hiding!" Rick gave a thoughtful pause.

"What makes you think that?" Evy began pacing again, this time more excitedly.

"Think about it Rick! He's been in the Underworld this past year! Souls clawing away at you mercilessly, rendering you utterly powerless and draining away every ounce of energy you have left!" Rick grimaced at the very description.

"Sounds nice," he mumbled.

"But that could explain everything!" Evy continued, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "He's weak! At the moment he doesn't have the power to just take what he wants and leave."

"So we find him before his powers come back. Like shooting fish in a barrel," Rick said, cocking his gun.

"Yes," Evy said, crinkling her nose at her husband's gun reference. "But we don't know how much time it will take for him to regain them. It's been about a week since these plagues started. Surely it can't take much more time for them to come back."

"How exactly did he manage to crawl his way out of Hell?" Rick asked, the thought obviously being one that had been eating away at his mind. Evy's confident air deflated a little at the question.

"I don't know. It should be impossible considering he was powerless down there."

"Well then," Rick said with a smug grin. "I guess we will just have to ask him ourselves."


	6. Death Experience

Imhotep attempting to sit up on his own. After a few minutes, he was able to position himself with his legs over the side of the bed, panting lightly. How much longer until he was well? It was infuriating to be stranded here! And if he was not able to be at full power, he would never fulfill his purpose. Apparently it was not meant to be easy. Resting his elbows on his knees, Imhotep bent his head while taking deep breaths. He would need to leave as soon as possible. Time was not on his side.

"Oh, you are awake."

Imhotep raised his head to see Amunet standing once again in the entryway. She was dressed in a loose dress made from nothing particularly splendid. A simple set of robes with a sash tied around her middle, a hood pulled up over her head, a few golden locks peeking out. He sat up, keeping his spine locked in a regal position, looking at her as if she was beneath him. A bucket was in her hands.

"I was just going to head to the well really quick for water. Would…would you like to come?"

Imhotep blinked at her. Water? Apparently she was unaware of all the plagues. Despite the death in the streets and the horrendous conditions, Amunet still dared to venture out to retrieve that she thought was water in the well. Still, he could not allow for her to wander. He pushed off the bed, shakily standing with more confidence than last night. Amunet seemed to restrain herself from moving towards him to help. He did not need her help.

She did wait for him before slowly walking towards the kitchen. There was a back door in the corner of the small room with pieces of cloth stuffed into the cracks. Amunet took a minute to remove the clogs before opening the door. Sand spilt in, blowing Amunet's hood off her head. She struggled with the door which had nearly flown off its hinges. Imhotep strode forward, gripping the door and moving Amunet outside before giving it a firm tug, slamming it shut.

"T-thank you," Amunet called over the wind, pulling her hood back up with some difficulty. Imhotep said nothing, looking around for the well. Better to get this over with and get Amunet back inside. He watch her as she trekked through the sand that was collecting around her ankles, heading toward a particularly dry looking well only a few yards away from her home. Imhotep followed, spending most of his energy on staying as close to Amunet as possible through the sand storm.

They were nearly at the well when Amunet tripped, falling face first into the sand. Coughing and spitting out sand, she rolled over to see a body half buried by sand. The man's eyes were wide and blank. Boils and sores covered what skin was visible, flies skittering across his face. Imhotep was accustomed to such things, but as he looked at Amunet, he saw a look of sheer horror, her body frozen in the sand. It was more than horror however, something in her eyes told him that death held a deeper terror for her.

"Come," he said, reaching down and pulling her up by her arm. "Unless you wish to be buried in the sand along with him." Amunet scrambled to her feet with Imhotep's help, gripping her bucket as if it were her life line. They reached the well, Amunet tying the bucket to the rope, silent and shaking. Imhotep watched as she threw her entire body weight onto the level, lowering the bucket.

Was this unfair of him? Letting her do this task while knowing that she would simply be horrified even more? Perhaps. But he did not necessarily care. And the mortals who roamed Egypt now were weak. It would do her good to see a little of the horrors that existed in this world. Amunet was now pulled the bucket up, struggling with the lever. Imhotep did nothing to help as he looked off into the city, squinting through the sand that was whipping through the air. The city was dead, silent, abandoned. Everyone was shut up in their homes. The first few day's people had been running through the streets screaming, running in a mad panic. His work had produced an ocean of bodies and a city of fear.

Amunet's scream broke Imhotep from his trance. It was nothing like the screams he had heard in the past few days. It was considerably quieter, more shock filled, as if she could not get the air to sustain her horror at finding the bucket full of blood. Imhotep watched as her fingers slipped on the blood soaked wood of the bucket, the scarlet liquid splashing down her entire front. She fell backwards onto the sand in shock, covered in blood, her limbs shaking uncontrollably.

Once again, more of the fear in her eyes that gave Imhotep a dash of curiosity. Her expression was not just the horrified awe and disgust that he encountered when people saw water turn to blood, but the stuff of nightmares. His experiment over, Imhotep stooped down, looping one arm around her back and the other under her knees to use his remaining energy to pick her up effortlessly. Amunet looked up at him in surprise before returning her attention to the blood that stained her hands.

Working his way through the sand, Imhotep managed to kick open the door back into Amunet's house, closing it once they were inside. Amunet made a few whispering noises, trying to rub the blood off her hands, only managing to smear it around even more. Looking around, Imhotep moved towards the bathroom, sneaking a glance down at Amunet who was starring off into space, going limp. Entering the bathroom, Imhotep gently placed Amunet in the tub, looking down at her. It took a moment for her to recognize where she was. She shifted in the tub before looking up at Imhotep, clawing away at her blood soaked robes.

"Why…why is the water…" She did not seem to be able to form a proper sentence. Imhotep did nothing but look coldly down at her. He couldn't very well say that he had been the one to make the water this way. It would not change anything. Amunet looked down again, her face paling. She was going into shock. Any moment now and she would break. She could react in a number of ways, and Imhotep had no desire to see which way she would bend. Amunet seemed about to reach her breaking point when suddenly, a comb was being pulled through her hair.

Imhotep watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise, as well as her entire body go limp. He gently pulled the bristles through her golden waves. It had been a knee jerk reaction, a chance he was willing to take if it would calm the girl down. He took a hand and ran it through her hair, lifting the locks so the bristles could pass all the way through the strands. Amunet's breathing slowed and her back rested against the tub. Minutes passed as Imhotep continued to slowly brush her hair, sending her deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation until she was able to speak.

She continued to look down at her hands as he brushed her hair as she asked, "How did you know? Know to…" She gestured towards his action. Imhotep said nothing for a moment, continuing his task.

"Last night. You looked very calm." He answered stiffly. She nodded her head silently, swallowing nervously.

"My…my mother used to brush my hair when I was scarred or…nervous," Amunet explained, her voice quiet and weak, but less shaky then before. Imhotep looked at her silently, gazing at her blank expression.

"You have experience with death," Imhotep observed, "And not of the natural kind." Amunet said nothing as she let the calming feeling of her hair being brushed over take her. Her silence was confirmation enough. Imhotep did not press the matter.

"So do you." Imhotep paused mid-brush, his entire body freezing for a long moment before he continued. Amunet tilted her head to look at him, brown eyes scanning over his face. He did not look her in the eye but continued to brush away, leaving the silence to hang in the air. He would not venture into that topic. He and Death were more acquainted then he would admit to Amunet. After a while, the familiar tint of red came to Amunet's face, her body tensing as her shock wore away to find herself being pampered by Imhotep, covered in blood, in her bathtub. She moved a little, pulling her head away from the brush, indicating to the Imhotep that she no longer required the only comfort he could offer.

"I should get cleaned up," she whispered, moving to stand up. Imhotep stood as well, looking down at her to make sure she could stand on her own. She swallowed, letting out a shaking breath. "I will make us something once I am done. As long…as long as you are willing to wait." Imhotep moved toward the door, watching as Amunet gave him a concerned glance, as if she was afraid that he might disappear. He had little to no intention of leaving. He stepped out of the bathroom, heading towards Amunet's room.

"Imhotep?"

Imhotep turned, looking at Amunet who stood in the bathroom doorway, hugging herself and looking on after him. "Thank you."

The High Priest blinked, looking at Amunet with a chilly silence before bowing his head slightly and turning away.


	7. To the Restoration Museum

"We had better head out now if we are going to get anywhere," Rick stated after peaking out of the bar. Evy stood, having gotten all the sand out of her shoes.

"Does it look like the storm has let up a little?" she asked, joining him. The sand was still speeding by the buildings, the wind causing a loud ruckus.

"Nope," Rick answered, heading towards the camels. "But now is a good time to start looking as ever. Plus I'm getting tired of sitting here doing nothing but drinking."

"Finally, something we can agree on," Evy said, smiling weakly and following him to the camels. She let out a long sigh, gripping the reins and patting her camel on its long nose. "But where on earth do we start looking? All of Cairo is covered in this storm! He could rightly be anywhere in the city." Rick jumped onto the saddle, making sure everything was tightly secured to his rather nervous animal.

"We search the biggest buildings first. Our Mummy isn't one for small places. This guy think he deserves a palace, not a hut." Evy hoisted herself up onto her saddle, nodding her head in agreement.

"Always count on Imhotep to be over the top in everything that he does," she sighed. Rick chuckled, this time wrapping his turban tightly and including a wrap around his nose and mouth. He made a mental note to include goggles next time he ventured into a sand storm. They slowly lead their camels out of the building, thankful for the large doors, and were once again taken by the storm.

The managed to search the first few buildings without much incident, until they ran into Cairo residence using the buildings for shelter. Boils on their faces, unable to eat any of their food, things got violent and Rick had to threaten a large number of people with his guns just in order to search the upper rooms.

Evy interrogated the groups as kindly as she could. Under a short amount of time, they were able to locate a few people who had been in Cairo during Imhotep's first rampage, who knew what he looked like. It took them much more time however to find someone who had seem him this time around. He was not exactly gathering a civilian army like last time. After hours of searching and asking, they managed to find someone who had seen someone of Imhotep's description. While the man was not able to tell them what building he was hiding in, he was able to tell them what part of Cairo he had been seen last.

"That's our best shot," Rick said, patting Evy on the back and heading back outside to the camels. Once again they tackled the sand storm, heading towards their only lead to Imhotep's location.

"I liked it better when he was all about the attention!" Rick called to Evy who managed to lead her camel alongside Rick's. Evy nodded in agreement.

"I can hardly imagine what he could be doing! This does not fit his old patterns at all!"

"The man has been through Hell and back. Literally!" Rick replied, blinking in an attempt to remove some sand that had managed to get into his eyes. "That'll change a man, immortal or not."

"Still, I think we should contact the Ma'jai as soon as possible," Evy said, looking around for buildings that might harbor the creature they were looking for. "You would think that they would be here already with all the plagues."

"Perhaps we inherited the Mummy babysitting job," Rick joked, much to Evy's displeasure.

"Richard O'Connell don't you dare jinx us with that task," she bellowed, wobbling uncertainly in her saddle. "Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life being chased by mummies and dealing with curses?"

"In our line of work, that's kind of hard to avoid," Rick pointed out. "What buildings are left around this place?" he asked, focusing his attention on the buildings. Evy lifted a hand in an attempt to block some of the sand in order to grab a better view of their surroundings.

"I don't know! I can hardly tell where we are with all the sand." It was around noon and yet everything was darkened by the sand blocking out the sun. "Wait…wait I see…I see the Restoration Museum!"

"The what?" Rick called.

"The Restoration Museum! It's run by a women I have become acquainted with over the years! She is a restoration artist! Oh dear, I do hope she is alright!"

"You think Imhotep could be there?" Rick asked.

"It's possible. It isn't exactly large, but it is full of things that he might be familiar with. It couldn't hurt to try!"

"Alright, let's get out of the storm and find ourselves a Mummy!"


	8. Incounters

Amunet was lucky that she kept bathing water separate and under the bath. Still, she was terrified when she pulled out the bucket, afraid that she might see the thick, scarlet liquid filling this bucket as well. But instead, she was met with the familiar, clear water. There was not enough to take a full bath, but she would be able to scrub herself off. Pulling off the blood soaked robes, she fingered them for a moment before tossing them into a corner. She had no idea how to remove blood from clothes. The occasion had never really called for it.

Dipping a rag into the water, she paused before quickly walking over to the bathroom door and locking it. It wasn't that she didn't trust Imhotep…well, she didn't. He seemed like a gentleman, but accidents did happen. Shivering due to her lack of cloths, she set the bucket on her stool, standing in front of the mirror and scrubbing away at her skin, trying to remove the red stains that covered her chest and stomach.

Horrible…that is what all this was. Blood. She could only recall one other time that the water there had turned to blood, but she did not experience it herself. She only ever heard about that part of the disaster, as well as everything else. Just like now, she had boarded up her home and stayed inside until everything had blown over. She was mistaken to think that this was not just another sandstorm. It was happening again. That man's face…

Amunet shuddered on account of the thought. As if she didn't have enough keeping her up at night. She continued scrubbing after all the blood was gone, thinking that she might as well clean herself all the way. The sand that stuck to her skin itched something awful, although the scrubbing only made her rag feel like sandpaper. Dipping it back into the bucket, she looked at her reflection, noticing how utterly distressed she looked, even after her hair being brushed.

That had been awfully considerate of Imhotep…Her face burning red at the very thought of the tall Egyptian, Amunet quickly scrubbed harder, making sure to get behind her ears. He sure did not like to talk all that much. He seemed to be more of a man of action. Which was antagonizing, seeing as she had so many burning questions about him. Perhaps she could build up the courage to ask him about where he had come from.

She shook herself. No, that really wasn't any of her business was it? But how had he ended up at her home, weak and close to death? He seemed to be having trouble recovering, and he looked nothing like a sickly man based on his physical appearance. No injuries as far as Amunet could find. The more she thought about it, the more concerned she became. And there was that look in his eyes. He had lost a lot. He seemed lost himself in many ways. Breaking away from her trace, Amunet took the bucket with her as she stepped into the tub. She couldn't let good bathwater go to waist. She held it above her head and turned it upside down, letting the slightly pink water spill over her, letting it wash away the remaining sand in her hair and on her skin.

Finishing off with one final scrub down, she stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. Seeing the brush sitting on the counter, she picked it up and pulled it through her hair a few times before turning and opening the bathroom door. Imhotep stood only a few feet away, holding a bucket and pausing as he looked at Amunet. Frozen in place, Amunet's mouth fell open, her hand gripping the towel tightly. Her eyes fell on the bucket. Imhotep, who did not seem disturbed by her lack of clothes, tilted the bucket slightly.

"Water."

"Water?" Amunet repeated in disbelief. She quickly walked forward, her damp feet lightly slapping the floor, grabbing the edge of the bucket and tilting it farther forward. Sure enough, clear, cool water filled the bucket. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. She lifted her eyes to look at him. "How?" she asked. "The water it was…it was…"

"Does it matter how?" Imhotep asked. "You have your water don't you?" Amunet, her hair dripping around her shoulders, gazed up at him in wonder. If she did not have the motivation to confront him a few minutes ago, she did now.

"It does matter!" she stuttered, looking down at the water again, going so far as to dip her hand in just to prove to herself that it was not some trick. "Cairo is flooded with plagues and yet you somehow manage to pull water from thin air!" Imhotep looked away, pressing his lips together.

"Now is not the time-"

"It's the perfect time," Amunet insisted. "I let you stay here, in my own home, in my bed," she added, "Could you not just supply me with some answers? I'm not a fool, I'm not stupid." Imhotep finally turned to look at her, his eyes stopping Amunet's heart for a few second.

"I am aware that to _some_ degree you are no fool. But you lack certain knowledge, certain insight that will allow you to understand the things that I might tell you."

Their lack of conversation up till this point seemed to have spilt over into one large, confrontational conversation that neither party had anticipated. "You sound like my father," Amunet choked, hating herself from even bringing him up, but it was true. Imhotep tilted his head.

"Am I to take that as an insult?" he inquired. Amunet shook her damp head, taking a step back.

"No. It means that you are cryptic and do not have confidence in me."

"I know little to nothing of you," Imhotep said coldly.

"Nor I you!" Amunet shot back. "And yet I was merciful to you! I took you in!" Imhotep scoffed at this.

"You? Merciful to me?" His smug laugh stopped Amunet in her tracks. "It is _I _that was merciful to _you_! For not killing you on the spot."

A deep, long, horrible silence feel after these words. Amunet's eyes were wide with shock, her shoulders shaking. Kill her? Was that what he had meant to do when they had first met? And here she believed him to be some civilian that needed help. No. He was dangerous. He was something else. One hand still gripping her towel, Amunet snatched a restored Egyptian knife from the wall, pointing it at Imhotep, who stood still with the bucket of water still in hand.

"Do you really want to do that?" he asked, his voice deep, low and frightening. Amunet swallowed, starring unblinkingly at him. She didn't want to do this at all, but he was scaring her.

"I am able to handle myself better than you might think," she said, her quiet voice cracking slightly. Imhotep sneered at this.

"We shall see."

He moved so quickly that Amunet could hardly believe that he was human. The bucket dropped to the floor, water spilling over the smooth tiles. Amunet ducked as she found an arm aiming for her head. Slashing at the blur of flesh, she whirled around, jumping over Imhotep's swipe at her legs. Her landing nearly broke her ankle, her feet finding a slippery landing on the wet surface on the floor. He was at a serious advantage, with having both arms. Even though her life was in danger, Amunet could not bring herself to drop the towel. Fighting naked…it was too embarrassing and shameful.

Imhotep seemed mildly impressed by her ability to avoid his attacks, but that did not make him stop from coming at her with full speed. Using the floor to her advantage, Amunet slid out of his line of attack at the last second, but Imhotep reacted instantly, catching her ankle with his own just as she slid away. She tripped, smacking her elbows into the hard ground. Gasping in pain, she rolled over to find Imhotep in the air, his fist read to make contact.

Grasping her knife tighter, she swung her arm across, the blade catching Imhotep's arm, a deep gash appearing in his forearm. She rolled away as his fist made contact with the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she stared in horror at the section of the floor that had fallen victim to Imhotep's fist. The tile was broken and dislodged, crushed underneath Imhotep's attack. Stumbling backwards, Amunet readied herself. Imhotep, bleeding from his arm, stood straight, turning with fire in his eyes.

There were hundreds of restored weapons lining the walls. Amunet could only wonder why the man had not grabbed one already. Perhaps he admired brute force more than tactic. Her chest rising and falling in an attempt to catch her breath, Amunet felt a wall hit her back.

"Impressive. You were trained?" Imhotep asked, looking down at the gash in his arm. Amunet did not think that this was best time for idle chit-chat, but she simply raised her chin.

"My father." She answered, taking this opportunity to attack rather than defend. Using the wall, she propelled herself forward, knife pointed towards Imhotep's heart. He used his uninjured arm to catch Amunet by the arm that held her towel, gripping her other wrist tightly and squeezing. Amunet cried out in pain and dropped the knife. Grinning in apparent victory, Imhotep loosened his grip lightly. Whether he was going to show more 'mercy' or not, Amunet never found out. Slipping her hand out of his grip, she used her nails and scratched at his face as well and kneeing him in the gut.

Imhotep stumbled backwards, the wind knocked out of him. Amunet took the moment of freedom to dive for the knife, only to have Imhotep grab her leg. Falling onto the water covered ground, she slapped her hand down on the knife and rolled over just as Imhotep leapt ontop of her, hand on her throat. Amunet froze, the tip of the knife pressing gently into the back of Imhotep's neck. Both of the breathed heavily, eyes lock on each other's. His hold on her neck was loose, but Amunet didn't dare move. Fire was burning in her eyes, nothing like the timid girl from before. Battle was different, or at least that is what her father had taught her. Imhotep had her pinned. And still, her left hand clutched the towel to her chest, her hair spread out underneath her, water seeping through the towel. They stayed that way for a long minute before Imhotep's concentrated scowl broke out into a smirk.

"You are very good," he said. Amunet ground her teeth together, saying nothing. His smirk fell, his expression suddenly genuine. "Your father must have been a very good teacher." Amunet's warrior mask fell to reveal an expression of surprise. Imhotep observed the sudden innocent expression and blinked. "There you are," he whispered. Amunet's face flushed bright red, her body suddenly heated with embarrassment. He had no intention to kill her. She knew that now. She dropped her arm, the knife now gone from his neck. He removed his hand, but remained close to her face. Unable to control her embarrassment, she turned her head away.

"Please remove yourself from me," she whispered. Imhotep said nothing before standing. He reached down and helped her stand, lifting her up as if she weighed no more than a throw pillow. "You seemed to have regained your strength," she said, stepping away from him and clearing her throat. Had all of that really just happened? Imhotep examined his hands.

"It seems so." He said thoughtfully. It was then that a loud knock came at the door. Amunet jumped, able to fight a full grown Egyptian man yet startled by loud noises. Looking down at her state of dress, she let out a long and nervous sigh. Carefully making her way across the water coated floor, she pushed the table in front of the door out the way. It was probably someone looking for shelter, something that Amunet really couldn't deny under the circumstances. Having the table out of the way, she opened the door a crack. Two figures stood there, looking in at her. Turbans covered their faces.

"Can I help you?" Amunet asked. The shorter figure removed their turban and cloths to reveal a woman that look mildly familiar.

"Amunet? Amunet Bassili?" she asked in English.

"Yes, that's me." She replied warily, feeling slightly better that it was a woman.

"You might not remember me. I've Evy. I came by on a few occasions with my brother Johnathan with some Egyptian mechanisms to be restored. We discussed the difference between Egyptian generation potteries?" Amunet blinked before opening the door wider.

"Evy?"

Her reunion with her costumer was cut short however as the door opened wider, allowing her guests a full view of Imhotep behind her. The taller figure suddenly pulled out a shot gun, unloading two shots. Amunet screamed, jumping to the side in shock. Imhotep, whose eyes were filled with hatred, had moved with inhuman speed once again, dodging the bullets.

"Damn it Evy he's not exactly weak!" the figure shot, reloading and running inside. Evy joined Amunet, gripping her shoulders.

"Amunet, it's okay, but you need to stay away from-"

"No, stop!" Amunet yelled, jerking free from Evy's arms and running after Rick who had entered the bedroom. Imhotep stood in the center of the room, shoulders tense like a tiger ready to pounce. "Stop!" Amunet yelled, running past Rick and standing in front of Imhotep, her free arm spread wide to shield him, even though she was considerably smaller.

"Lady, get out of the way!" Rick yelled, jerking his mouth free from his cloth wrap and cocking his gun. Imminent danger apparent, Amunet's eyes widened with fear. Why on earth was she protecting him like this? Well, perhaps her questions had not been answered yet, but at the same time, she couldn't just let these people barge in and shoot Imhotep! Opening her mouth to beg the man to stop, with one fluid motion, Imhotep stepped around Amunet to - what seemed like - to protect her. She blinked in surprise, peering around his large form to look at Rick with wide, pleading eyes.

"Rethink your actions O'Connell," he hissed.

"Evy, he's speaking oldy again. Care to translate?" Evy, who was now beside the man Amunet now knew as 'O'Connell', looked at the two of them intently.

"He pretty much told you not to shoot."

Imhotep suddenly buckled, his knees giving way and he fell to the floor. Amunet caught his arm in an attempt to give him a soft landing. "Imhotep!" she called in a panic. He had over worked himself. Amunet couldn't help but feel responsible for that. She looked up at Evy and O'Connell with pleading eyes.

"What has he done to deserve being shot at?!" she demanded, looking down at him with worry and panic.

"Do you want me to write out a list?" O'Connell asked with a sarcastic smile.

"Rick," Evy whispered, tapping his shoulder and jerking her head towards Amunet. "He protected her. Do you think-"

"What? That she's his pick for raising his girlfriend back from the dead?" Rick asked with a doubtful expression. "A bit repetitive don't you think?"

"Could you at least lower the gun?" Amunet asked, shaking as she starred the shotgun down the barrel.

"Sorry lady, not with him in the room," he said, jerking the gun Imhotep's way.

"He can barely stand!" Amunet pleaded.

"Peace."

Everyone went silent as Imhotep spoke from the floor, breathing heavily. "Peace," he repeated.

"What did he say?" Rick asked, still aiming his heart. Evy gave Imhotep a confused and wary look.

"He said, 'peace'." She said, trailing off in awe. Rick paused, looking at Imhotep for a while.

"Bullshit," he replied.

"Honestly," Amunet whimpered breathlessly. "Can we at least have a civil discussion if everyone is willing to calm down!?" Everyone was silent before Evy slowly placed her hand on the barrel of Rick's gun and lowered it, giving him a look that clearly said 'shut up'.

"Peace," she repeated, looking down at Imhotep while tilting her chin slightly. "For now."


	9. A Vessel

Imhotep watched Amunet leave the room, but not before she gave him a worried glance before disappearing into the bathroom, clothes in her hand. After about five minutes of asking O'Connell not to shoot Imhotep while she changed, Amunet felt comfortable enough to go change into something less compromising.

Imhotep was sitting on her bed, hands clasped together, back straight, eyes peering over both O'Connells who were watching him uneasily. He avoided the woman's eyes as much as he could. She was just a painful reminder of Anuck-Su-Namun, having once been the intended host for his love. So instead, he focused on the male O'Connell, where all his hate was directed. He could see his hands grip his weapon tighter, making Imhotep smirk.

These two were the cause of all his suffering. It was a large amount of self-control and Amunet that kept him from killing both of them where they stood. Although, simply because his physical energy and health had returned, did not mean that the moment he attempted to use his powers he would walk away unaffected. The male O'Connell turned to speak to the female in a language that he was unfamiliar with. The conversation seemingly turned into an argument before the female stood and walked up to Imhotep. The small, amused smile that had been on Imhotep's face vanished as his attention was forced onto her.

"What do you plan to do with Amunet?" she asked, speaking slowly in his language.

Imhotep said nothing. This woman assumed to know what his purpose was. He could assume that they were simply burning with questions that they only wished they could ask. He answered her with a smirk, one that was particularly forced due to who he was face to face with. He supposed that he should have been particularly grateful for her waking him that while ago. But…at the same time, a small part of him thought that his fate might have been different had he been permitted to sleep longer, in a world where the accursed O'Connells were dead. Seemingly not satisfied with Imhotep's silence, Evy moved closer, making her husband raise his weapon slightly.

"If you think that we will allow you to sacrifice her to Anuck-Su-Namun-"

Imhotep stood at his, in one swift movement, towering over her and causing her to stumble back. O'Connell's weapon was raised all the way at this, his eyes filled with warning. Imhotep's entire body rippled with rage at the women's assumption. How dare she speak of Anuck-Su-Namun, or even assume that he would kill for that horrid- The thought stopped in his head, the memory of his cries of help and the women he loved turning and leaving him behind. He could not bear to hate her, yet, the betrayal stung deeply.

It was then that Amunet entered the room, dressed in a simple dress, once again seemingly allowing all elegance to flee from her attire. She viewed what was happening and quickly rushed forward, once again placing herself in front of the weapon, scolding both of the O'Connell's in their own language. He found her sense of protection curious, considering the little disagreement they had in her entryway, an event that he would not soon forget. He looked down at his arm where his gash still bled.

Amunet apparently had not forgotten this, for in the next moment, after calming the O'Connell's down, she was kneeling down next to him, taking his arms and cleaning the cut. He could not refrain from looking up at the O'Connell's with a smug smile. They began a conversation of which he could not follow. It obviously began to make Amunet uneasy, for her medical work on his arm became slower and slower, her eyes flickering up to meet his.

O'Connell made a particularly loud statement that made Amunet look at him as if he were a mad man. She slowly turned back to Imhotep, leaning in and whispering in his own language.

"Mr. O'Connell claims that you are…a mummy…"

Imhotep only suppressed yet another smile. So, they were telling her all the 'horrible things' he had done. A limp tactic if it ever was one. He gave Amunet an innocent head tilt, as if he was utterly confused by the statement. Amunet laughed a little at the absurdity of it all. "I know, it is utterly ridiculous," but he cut her off.

"Yes, it seems rather impossible doesn't it? But I do believe it to be the answer you were looking for. The water." He reminded her. Amunet's smile vanished and she swallowed nervously, tying his bandages and standing only to back away, looking at both the O'Connell's, asking a few follow up questions. Evy sympathetically spoke to her. But once he heard to the name 'Anuck-Su-Namun' in the woman's explanation and Amunet's horrified expression, he shot to his feet once again.

"You speak vile lies," he spat, earning another gun pointed at him once again. Evy and Amunet jumped, both being able to understand his words. He glared at Evy with fire in his eyes. "I never, nor will ever again, have the intention to raise Anuck-Su-Namun. My purpose upon this earth is much different. I am not here for myself." Evy, after a long pause, relayed his words to O'Connell, who scoffed with obvious disbelief.

"Then what is your purpose?" Evy asked, looking at Imhotep curiously. Amunet was looking at Imhotep as if he had grown another head, which wouldn't have been the strangest thing he had done. He looked only at the O'Connells as he spoke his next words.

"I have been set upon this earth to do Anubis' bidding."

There was a long pause where no one spoke, on account of everyone starring at Imhotep with wide eyes.

"Anubis…the God of Death." Evy said, sitting down, very shaken by the very idea. Good. They should be afraid. Amunet on the other hand, was looking back from Imhotep to the O'Connell's as if she was surrounded by insane people. She was obviously not one for the ancient ways. Ironic. O'Connell spoke to Evy, obviously skeptical of his claims. After a moment of arguing, Evy blocked O'Connell out to speak again with Imhotep.

"Why would…Anubis raise you from the Underworld?" she asked. Imhotep smirked.

"To find his vessel."

"Vessel? What do you mean by vessel?" Amunet asked, finally joining in the conversation. Imhotep looked at her lazily, as if the answer was obvious.

"Someone born to be possessed by the God of Death himself. Gods as you know, have no real, tangible form. That is, unless they are in possession of their vessel." These were obviously facts that the O'Connells were not familiar with. Not a surprise considering they had never dealt with anything quite like it. Neither had he, but he was not going to admit that. "My purpose, as a price from my freedom, is to find Anubis' vessel, and bring them to his Temple."

"I was unaware that Anubis had a temple," Evy said after processing everything else he had said. Imhotep smiled lightly.

"Not many do. It was located in Hamunaptra."

"Which was…destroyed." Evy said, as if he had forgotten. Imhotep's eyes narrowed at this.

"Yes," he said pointedly, as if to remind them whose fault that was. "The lower chambers however should remain intact. There is the location where the vessel will join with Anubis."

"Why are you telling us this?" Evy asked slowly, suddenly suspicious of all the information he was disclosing to them. Imhotep tilted his head, squinting at all three of them.

"Why? Because you have every intention of stopping me. And I have no intention of helping Anubis, despite our agreement. A God walking the earth? Even my life would be in jeopardy, and now that I am free, I value my life very much."

"And what makes you think that we need _you_ in order to stop Anubis?" Evy asked suspiciously.

"Because I have the vessel's name." Evy stopped at this. It was something that they needed. "As well as the location of the temple. Unless you wish to go digging through the City of the Dead to find one chamber out of thousands." Evy turned to O'Connell and spoke quietly to him, earning a bitter agreement. She turned to him once again, tilting her chin up.

"And how do we know that you won't betray us?"

Imhotep cocked an eyebrow, smirking at her. "You don't."


	10. People of Fantasy

These people were utterly insane. That was the thought that was running through Amunet's head as she sat silently as the conversation carried out, her hands clasped in her lap, eyes wide and focused on the ground. She had no idea how to react to everything Imhotep was saying. It was all ancient magic and legends! The things that she father had talked about nearly all the time. And the new comers, Evy and her husband, were not helping with her confusion.

They had tried to explain themselves earlier, but it was such an elaborate tale and Amunet's concern lay more with the man with the gun who had fired at Imhotep. But still…Amunet twisted her hands, swallowing. She could feel Imhotep's eyes on her, a very spine tingling and unnerving sensation.

"This guy is obviously playing games Evy," Rick said, jerking his gun at Imhotep. "We can't trust a single word that he says."

"I am well aware of that dear," Evy muttered, chewing on her nails and tapping her foot on the marble floor. "But we really do not have much of a choice do we?"

"Yeah I think we do. I could blow this guy's head off right here and now!" he said roughly. Amunet shot him an attempt at a glare, having told him enough times to keep ideas like that to himself and not to dare act on them. O'Connell didn't know how Amunet could fight, but in order to stop any killing, she was willing to use her abilities not matter how much she disliked them. Rick clenched his jaw under Amunet's gaze and huffed. Evy looked up at her husband, missing the exchange between them.

"And if he is telling the truth? Anubis would most likely send someone else! Someone that we are not familiar with."

Amunet gathered the nerves to look up at Imhotep who was looking back at her intently. Pressing her lips together, her eyes flickered from the O'Connells to him again. The corners of his mouth twitched with amused confidence as if to say that he was not worried about the two of them at all. Amunet felt herself release a breath, but at the same time, the man's confidence seemed like a warning. Feeling like she might be able to ease the conversation as some kind of peace keeper, she stood, earning everyone's attention.

"P-perhaps if Imhotep told you the name of…the person you are looking for, we could all go together. Watch each other's back, you know." Imhotep watched her closely, the same tingling sensation rushing down Amunet's spine. She felt like she had a small amount of control over the situation speaking in English, knowing that Imhotep had no idea what she was saying. Rick looked at Evy then back at Amunet.

"We?" he repeated. Amunet flushed, realizing what she had said. She opened her mouth to take it back then stopped. No. She wanted to see this through. All of these people were unstable, talking about mummies and Anubis as if they were real. "Yes," she said slowly, "I can't let you run off with my…guest with these accusations and…guns."

"Accusations?" Rick repeated, giving Amunet the impression of a parrot. "We told you everything this guy has done!"

"Yes, and to be perfectly honest, I do not believe a word of it." Amunet admitted. "You are talking about magic and lore and practically everything that I have rejected!" Rick threw the firearm into his other hand and strode over to one of the windows and tore the covering off.

"You are telling me, that all of _this_ can happen right in front of your eyes, and you can still doubt that guys like_ him_," at this he pointed at Imhotep, "exist?" The memory of the blood in the well made Amunet's face pail. No, it couldn't be true. None of this could be true. Evy could see Amunet struggling to cope and stood, walking over to her and taking her hands in hers.

"Amunet, your father was a great man, one that knew about these kinds of things. An amazing scholar if ever there was one." Amunet avoided Evy's eyes at the mention of her father, but she nodded her head as if thanking her for the good comments towards her father's memory. "We are not asking you to get caught up in this-"

"I already am." Amunet interrupted, her eyes flickering towards Imhotep. Evy made note of this, but said nothing on it. Amunet clenched her jaw, trying to look assertive as possible. There was enough mystery surrounding their history with Imhotep, she couldn't just let them leave. She would go on living the rest of her life wondering what had happened. She already lived with that wonder in regards to her parents, she wouldn't let it happen again. Evy let out a long breath, looking at Rick.

"Evy, you can't seriously be considering-"

"I am, Rick," Evy said, removing her hands from Amunet and turning to Imhotep, her eyes hardening. O'Connell puffed out his cheeks, once again rising his weapon slightly. Evy looked down at Imhotep, who looked up at her in return. Amunet couldn't help but notice how his smug confidence vanished every time he looked at Evy, replaced with a pain and anger she was unfamiliar with. Evy switched over to Imhotep's language, Amunet's ears processing the words like clockwork.

"We will not allow you to take on this 'responsibility' alone. If you give us the name of the vessel, we will accompany you." Imhotep simply glared, seemingly about to deny the offer, but Evy continued. "By request, Amunet will come with us. She seems to feel some responsibility towards you." Imhotep looked at Amunet who felt her face grow hot. She looked away, clearing her throat and wishing Evy hadn't worded it like that.

"And why do you want the name if you are simply going to accompany me?" Imhotep asked, his attention returning to Evy.

"We don't want you having any advantage over us," she replied. Imhotep scoffed at this.

"I will always have an advantage over you. I, with all my power, will always have advantage over mortals like you." Amunet shifted uncomfortably at his words. Evy smiled lightly at him, surprising the Egyptian.

"Your power. Yes, well until you are at full capacity for your power, you could use protection like us." Imhotep glared at her, obviously not expecting them to know he was as drained as he really was. His dark eyes once again found Amunet. He starred at her for a long moment before looking back at Evy.

"His name is Lazarus." He said. Evy looked at Rick, nodding her head.

"Where can we find him?" she asked. Imhotep smiled knowingly at this.

"That really depends. He is a member of the Medjai."

The Medjai. Amunet had heard that name before. Once again, her father's research and obsessions were influencing her life, even beyond his death. Rick was able to pick up on one word in the jumble of Egyptian.

"Whoa wait. Did he say Medjai?" he asked, stepping forward and looking at Evy. Evy looked down at Imhotep, chewing on her nail again.

"Yes Rick. It seems one of its members is either knowingly or unknowingly the vessel for Anubis." Rick exhaled, raising his eyebrows.

"Awesome. Well, at least we will have reinforcements of keeping this guy under control," he said, nodding his head towards Imhotep. Evy nodded, still chewing away. Amunet shifted again, feeling her heart rate pick up.

Three people under some delusion was enough to make her skeptical, but an organization from the ancient times…More witnesses to the O'Connell's statements would thin the lines between fantasy and reality for Amunet, making their statements all the more true. Which would make everything they said about Imhotep true. She peered at him nervously, remembering the strength and speed he had used when they had had their little spat in the main entrance. The blood drained from her face. Imhotep seemingly felt her eyes on him, making him turn his head to once again look at her.

Her heart jumped in her chest, her hands growing moist in a nervous sweat. Looking away, she turned her attention to Evy and Rick who had been conversing silently.

"Well, I suppose we should leave as soon as possible. Do you have any idea on how to get into contact with Ardeth, Rick?" Evy asked. Rick scratched the back of his head, looking out the window.

"This should be enough to get his attention. I'm still trying to figure out how we got here before them." Evy obviously was wondering that herself and turned to Amunet.

"If you are going to come with us, you should get your things together." Amunet nodded her head and turned, only to be stopped by Evy's hand gripping her upper arm. "And if you have any of your father's research…Well, anything could help at this point." Amunet nodded her head again and quickly left the room, no longer able to stand the feeling of Imhotep watching her. She went into her room and closed the door, letting out a long breath.

"What have I gotten myself into?" she groaned. Taking a moment to collect herself, she pushed herself off the door and quickly walked over to her closet to pull out a leather satchel and started packing. She didn't need much, just the essentials. What did one usually pack when going to the City of the Dead? Thoughtfully chewing on her lip, she slowly walked back over to her closet and pulled a large trunk out from the back, dusty from having sat there for years, untouched.

Everything that had been her parents that wasn't taken or sold was in this truck. She played with the latches for a moment, afraid to open it. Memories would start flooding back again and for all she knew, the nightmares would only get worse. But they needed the things in here didn't they? Taking a deep breath, she flipped the latches and lifted the lid. Nearly the entire top of the truck was covered in papers. Amunet wished that her father had been at least a little more organized. Not having enough time to go through all the papers, Amunet collected them all, tapping them against her stomach to level them all over and tucking them into the large side pocket of her satchel.

The rest of the truck was full of her parent's old possessions. Pictures, her mother's jewelry, an old bottle of perfume and her father's old reading glasses are among some of them. Taking her mother's perfume bottle, she removed the cap and took a deep breath. It was as if her mother was in the room that moment, getting ready for the day. Memories of their brief time together filled Amunet's mind, bringing tears to her eyes. Quickly screwing the cap back on, she tossed it back in and closed the truck, gasping for breath, tears falling uncontrollably down her face.

Why did they have to pull her father into this? Sniffing, she gripped her back and was about to exit the room when she suddenly found herself covered in sand, hair being tugged by the wind. Turning, she saw that the covering on her bedroom window had somehow come undone. Dropping her bag, she quickly ran over, not wanting to get sand into her bed. Gripping the covering, she struggled to pull it up over the window, but stopped midway.

She was face to face with a figure who was standing right outside. Half masked by the sand, half by the wrappings around his mouth and nose, his eyes spoke of death, as did the knife in his hand. Amunet starred at him for a long moment before jerking away as the man, knife and all, crawled like a spider through the window.


	11. Battle at the Museum

Amunet's scream carried throughout the entire museum, echoing off the walls and alerting Imhotep and the O'Connells. Imhotep moved quicker than both the mortals, speeding towards the source of the scream. Practically breaking the door off its hinges, Imhotep entered Amunet's room to find her pinned on her bed, crawling away at the black robed man who was attempting to drive a knife into Amunet's chest. She was putting up quite a fight, but just like the result of her fight with Imhotep, she had become pinned with little chance of getting out.

Imhotep leapt forward, ramming into the man and driving him into the wall. The O'Connells entered the room, Rick's gun raised and pointed. Imhotep's rage was not extinguished until his hands were around the man's neck. The adrenalin pumping through his veins seemed to fuel his powers for a brief time, granting him the energy to swiftly snap the man's neck. He slid down the wall, falling at Imhotep's feet dead. Imhotep rolled his head, as if his own neck hurt from the act. He turned to see the O'Connells still in the doorway, eyes wide. His eyes moved next to Amunet.

Leaning back on her elbows, her eyes were focused on the man at Imhotep's feet, her brown eyes wide and unblinking. Imhotep looked at him as well, as if trying to see what the problem was. He had gotten rid of her attacker. If anything, the girl should be grateful.

"Everything they told me about you is true."

Imhotep looked up, eyebrows raised. It wasn't a question. Amunet was staring at him, her face pale, her entire body shaking. She seemed to have come to terms with what he was, or at least recognized what he was. He looked at her for a moment before turning to face the O'Connells.

"He was a member of a society created to exterminate any threat that might raise Anubis. They were here to kill me."

"I suppose they don't travel alone?" Evy asked hopefully. Imhotep's attention turned to the window, dark eyes narrowing.

"Never."

Rick sighed, reloading his gun. "Great." As if right on cue, there came a large banging noise from the front door. Not a knock so much as someone trying to break in. "Time to go!" Evy followed her husband out of the room while Imhotep extending his hand to Amunet. She refused it, helping herself off the bed and avoiding his eyes. He watched her closely as she grabbed her satchel and ran after the O'Connells. Whatever 'responsibility' Amunet might have felt towards him had vanished the moment he snapped that man's neck in front of her. Not that her good opinion mattered to him.

He briskly followed after them, already sensing that the museum was being surrounded. Rick and Amunet were having an argument once again, Amunet quickly and carefully taking an ancient vase off a table before O'Connell kicked it over to form a barrier. Imhotep stood over them as they hid behind it, Amunet clutching her satchel and looking terrified.

"C-Can't we just leave?" she stuttered, flinching every time there was a bang on the door. What with the battering ram effect and the storm, they all knew the door couldn't last long.

"This group is trained to eliminate any and all threats," Imhotep said, trying not to show how rattled he was, "They will have the building surrounded." He looked down at Amunet. "Our best chance at leaving this place alive is if we all fight." Amunet begrudgingly looked up at him, the obvious answer being 'no'. His eyes narrowed.

Was she really so selfish with her own life that she would not fight? He looked into her eyes and found that that answer was not the right one. She was not afraid for herself, she was afraid for them. Looking away, he took place beside O'Connell who tensed at his presence. Muttering under his breath, he rested his gun on the tables edge and focused his attention on the door, which was about to give way. Imhotep smirked, looking at the door as well. He never would have thought that he would be fighting alongside the O'Connells. Well, stranger things had happened.

O'Connell gave word of warning and the door burst open. A large wave of sand, along with what looked like a small army entered the museum. O'Connell let loose his weapon, and even Evy had a small firearm that she had tucked away. It was a blur of gunfire and bodies. Imhotep caught a glimpse of more men coming in through the kitchen and turned to face them.

Most were armed with knives and long, curved swords. Not wanting to exhaust himself into a stupor, he refrained from his powers and rammed into the attackers, flipping them over his back, and snapping the next man's wrist. He was ruthless. He hoped the blasted O'Connells had enough weaponry to handle the front. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Amunet clutching her satchel, looking around at the turmoil, as well as her life's work being destroyed before her eyes. Explosions rang in Imhotep's ears. They had brought firearms of their own. That complicated things.

O'Connell yelled something to Evy who relayed it back to Imhotep.

"We need to get out of here now!" she yelled. "We can't hold them back much longer!" Imhotep removed the sword from the stomach of one of the men, looking on at the rest of the men that they could not deal with on their own. He looked down at Evy and saw the intention in her eyes. He ground his teeth together. He would regret this.

Tossing aside the body, Imhotep stepped in front of the table, extending his arms. The O'Connell bunkered down behind the table, while Amunet get up on her knees to look at him. He made eye contact for a moment before turning his attention to the men who looked not in the least bit concerned. Gathering up the last of his energy, he opened his mouth and sent a large sand projection towards the unsuspecting assassins.

The sand outside picked up speed, soaring around the building in a vortex, breaking the windows of the museum and spilling in. A large projection formed in front of Imhotep, building in thickness as well as rage. He let out a mighty roar and sent the wave of sand throughout the entire museum. Amunet ducked down behind the table, barely avoiding the blast that almost sent the table flying over their heads. There were screams as the men remaining the building were buried or throw into the walls or out the museum itself.

The sand died down, leaving Imhotep swaying in the middle of the room. The O'Connells peeked over the table to find themselves in the middle of a sand crater, the sand nearly reaching the roof of the entryway. Imhotep turned, nearly falling over.

"We need to leave. Now!" Evy said, helping a shaky Amunet to her feet. Rick, after a moment to wipe the sand from his eyes, jumped over the table to examine the front the building inaccessible.

"Could have left us a way out!" he said, earning a glare from Imhotep, often times the only reply O'Connell ever got from the High Priest.

"We can get out th-through the back," Amunet whispered, watching Imhotep as he turned to face her. He could hardly feel his on skin for lack of blood flow. He felt everything go black before side stepping. The last thing he saw was Amunet and the O'Connell watching him in surprise as he toppled over into darkness.


	12. Protector

"Great, now he's swooning on us!" Rick scoffed, stepping forward and nudging him with his foot. He turned to look at Evy and Amunet. "I suppose his little protector here won't let me shoot him now." These words shook Amunet from her trance, rushing forward and gruffly brushing past O'Connell furiously.

"I'm not his protector," she muttered, rolling him over and trying to loop his arm over her neck. He was much heavier when unconscious. "But you can't just leave him here," she grunted. Rick held back from helping her to look at Evy with an incredulous look.

"And why not?!" he asked, irritated. "We have the name! And honestly, I'd rather not have him come along." Amunet stumbled, falling down next to Imhotep and huffing in frustration. Earning sympathy from Evy, she rushed forward to help. "Evy?" Rick questioned as she and Amunet both picked Imhotep together with some effort. She looked at her husband with an exasperated look.

"Rick, if we leave him behind, he will wake and he will no longer be willing to help us. He will most likely hunt us down and kill us."

"Do you honestly think he is trying to help us?" Ricked asked, watching as they started dragging the High Priest towards the kitchen.

"Of course not," Evy grunted. "But having him pretend to help us is better than having him try to kill us every second of the day isn't it?" Rick closed his eyes, eyebrows scrunched together before he strode forward.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, taking Imhotep's arm from Evy and quickly helping Amunet drag him outside. After climbing over the small sand dune that had formed at the back door, they managed their way outside, Rick and Amunet carrying Imhotep and Evy carrying Amunet's bag. The sand storm was gone, leaving Cairo strangely silent and heating up under the sun. The streets remained devoid of life, it seemed that the population was still too afraid to come out of their homes.

"We need to get to the camels," Evy said, watching as Amunet tried to get Rick to handle Imhotep a little more carefully.

"Right," Rick grunted, pulling on Imhotep. "Scout ahead and make sure that the way is clear around the building. I'd rather not have to deal with any more of our 'friends'." Evy nodded and ran ahead. Rick watched her vanish around the corner, clenching is jaw nervously. Amunet's struggle to hold Imhotep up drew him back however, pulling up on the Egyptians arm. "So are you going to explain why you are being so over protective of our Mummy?" he asked. Amunet looked up, blinking and once again turning red.

"I'm not being protective," she muttered, digging her feet into the sand for better footing. "I'm doing what anyone would do. Trying give people the benefit of the doubt, and not letting people shoot others," she said pointedly.

"He snapped a man's neck right in front of you." Rick retorted. Amunet shuddered at the memory.

"While I don't…while I don't think that was right, in all fairness, he was trying to kill me." Rick grunted in agreement.

"So do you finally believe us? About everything?" he asked, looking at the corner and anxiously waiting for Evy to return. Amunet looked down at the ground, feeling nervous about everything she had seen.

"I don't see how I cannot." She whispered. "He kind of made a sandstorm destroy my museum. I really can't get more proof than that." Rick gave her a side glance and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah…I'm sorry about that. Your museum." Amunet gave a sad sigh, offering a forced smile.

"I'm a restoration artist. Who's to say that I can't restore them again?" Her faulting smile told Rick a different story. Years of her life had been in there, it wouldn't be easy to get back. Why had the damn Mummy have to go and bury everything?

"And you?" Amunet asked. "Do you believe him about Anubis?" Rick snorted.

"I don't believed a single thing this guy says," he replied. "Not that I understand any of it."

"But an order of Anubis hating assassins did just try to kill him and us." Amunet pointed out. Hearing the sound of footsteps, Rick straightened his back and pulled a revolver from the back of his pants just in case. Evy appeared around the corner, looking excited and relieved.

"Guess who I found," she said breathlessly. She was suddenly joined by a dark haired, familiar man.

"Ardeth!" Rick exclaimed. "About time you got here!" Ardeth offered no smile or friendly greeting. Instead, his dark eyes fell on the man that they were carrying in-between them, as if he did not believe his eyes.

"O'Connell, am I to believe that you are helping the Creature which, by your accounts, was thrown into the Underworld?" he asked in a heavy accent. Amunet tensed up at this, earning Rick's attention. There she was again, being protective no matter what she said or denied.

"Helping isn't the word I would use," Rick grunted.

"We'll explain everything later Ardeth," Evy said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "But right now we need to get out of here." Ardeth gave Evy a glance before looking once again to Imhotep.

"I am afraid that we cannot take him with us." He said.

"Ardeth please," Evy said, only to be cut off.

"Our job is to kill and stop the Creature. The only way he comes with us is if he is dead."

"He's unconscious if that helps," Rick snapped, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Ardeth gave Imhotep's limp form a curious look.

"He is weakened?" he asked.

"Enough that he is threatened by guns," Evy said breathlessly, looking around, worried that staying in one place too long would be a very bad idea. "Please Ardeth, he has important information and there is something going on here that you need to know about-"

"The vessel," Ardeth whispered. Rick, Evy and Amunet looked up at him in surprise.

"You know about that?" Rick asked. Ardeth nodded his head solemnly.

"It was considered a myth, a myth made all the more real by the Westings." He said darkly.

"Yeah, I think we ran into a few of them," Rick muttered. Ardeth looked down at them, his expression one of concern.

"They were the reason why my people and I could not enter the city. I am glad that you faired against them. They are ruthless killers who will let no one stand in their way."

"I take it that the Westings and the Medjai don't get along very well," Evy said thoughtfully. Ardeth shook his head.

"The Medjai's mission is protection. The Westings prefer extermination. It really is a blessing that you are alive."

"We had help," Amunet said, speaking up. Ardeth looking down at her, blinking, as if he had not noticed her until that point in the conversation. She glared up at him, her cheeks red with exertion and nervousness. "Imhotep protected us."

"And who are you?" Ardeth asked, overlooking her statements, his resolve on the Creature unchanged.

"Can we save the introductions for later?" Evy asked, looking around nervously. "Something tells me that the Westings that we ran into are not the only ones. Ardeth's attention was pulled away from Amunet to the matter at hand.

"You would be right. If we are to leave, then we must leave now." He looked at Imhotep for a moment before turning away. "He may come. But he comes as a prisoner. Blindfold him and tie his hands. If we are to head into the Medjai camp I will not compromise their lives by bringing in the Creature with no precautions."

"Fine with me," Rick said cheerily. Amunet was furious and opened her mouth to refuse that as an option, but Evy appeared by her side.

"Best not complain," she whispered. "Imhotep and the Medjai are not the best combination. You should just be grateful that he did not kill him on the spot." Amunet looked up at Evy before pressing her lips together. Ardeth watched this exchange silently and moved to take Amunet's spot under Imhotep's arm, but the blonde Egyptian pushed past him, walking Imhotep around the corner with Rick's help.

"It seems that the Creature has a protector," Ardeth said thoughtfully, watching them walk around the corner.

"Don't tell her that," Evy said with a small smile. "She isn't exactly fond of the title."


	13. Desert Conversation

These people were completely insufferable! Amunet didn't know what it was about the Medjai, but every single one of them made her feel insure about Imhotep's safety. How it was that one person could have an entire organization devoted to killing them? It was horrible. But once again, thoughts of Imhotep ending that man's life so easily… Shudders ran down her back as she watched Imhotep's unconscious body on the horse in front of her. He lay there like some kind of animal that had been successfully caught. She shifted uncomfortably in her own saddle.

Why did people have to be the way they were? Cruel, greedy, confusing. She would much rather have been surrounded by her art and her work, but that was no longer an option. She had made a choice when protecting Imhotep, and it was one that she could not back out on. Amunet hadn't ridden a horse in a long while, never having left Cairo very often unless it was for a job. She would have much rather be on one of the camels, but it was nice to have a little space to herself. Although that did not stop her from listening to the O'Connell's conversation with Ardeth only ten feet away.

"You say he said Lazarus is the vessel?" Ardeth said, deep concern on his face.

"Yes," Evy said, chewing on her bottom lip. "Do you know him?" Ardeth looked off into the horizon, sadness coming over his face.

"Yes. He is young. Too young for something like this."

"What do you mean?" Rick asked. "You don't intend to give him up to Egyptian Reaper himself do you?"

"Of course not," Ardeth sighed, still looking forwards. "But a member of the Medjai being the vessel…it is troubling."

"Isn't it troubling enough that anyone in this world could be the vessel of a death deity?" Evy asked, petting her camel's neck.

"Of course," Ardeth said with a sigh, the O'Connells not fully understanding what he meant. "We Medjai protect each other to the death. We are a family. No one would even think of giving Lazarus up to Anubis. But the Westings are not so easily convinced."

"Well isn't their job to protect the vessel and make sure they don't attempt the ritual, if they even want to?" Evy asked. Ardeth turned to look at them, shaking his head.

"The very opposite. I told you, the Westings are ruthless killers. They have a much different approach things than the Medjai. Their main goal is to find the vessel and kill them. That, in their own minds, is the best way to insure that Anubis does not walk the earth." A long silence followed this statement, the only sounds being the animals breathes and the hooves on sand.

"So…because Lazarus is a member of the Medjai…" Evy started.

"It is going to be a full out war between the two factions," Ardeth finished with a nod. "Yes." Rick let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's not good. I guess diplomacy isn't really an option with these guys? From the impression we got back at the museum they are more of a 'kill first ask questions' later type group." Ardeth once again nodded his head gravely. "But they don't know the vessels name, right? That's got to be an upside," Rick pointed out.

"It is unknown whether they know the vessel's identity or not. But seeing as Lazarus is still with us, I am inclined to think that they are not privy to that information." Ardeth paused. "The Creature said that they were after him?" Rick nodded.

"The guy is popular," he said sarcastically.

"If they are after the creature, they must know that he is here on Anubis' bidding and perhaps suspect that he has the vessel's name." he concluded.

"Which means that they will be following us to get him," Evy pointed out. Amunet broke away from the conversation for a moment to look behind them to see if they were being followed. All she could see however was a sea of sand.

"Unfortunately," Ardeth agreed. "Which means that if they are following the creature, we are leading them straight to Lazarus." The group went silent once again. They had really painted themselves into a corner and they all knew it.

"What if there was a way to break the vessel's bond to Anubis?" Evy asked. Ardeth gave her a side glance.

"I am aware that you are a scholar Mrs. O'Connell, but this is very ancient, deep magic that we are discussing here."

"I am well aware of that," she retorted. "But Amunet's father was a scholar as well, specializing in ancient times as well as ancient magic and perhaps even Anubis. We have a chance to find something that could end this war before it even starts. Lazarus will be disconnected from Anubis and the Westings will have no reason to kill him." Amunet felt herself tense because she had suddenly been brought into the conversation and because she could feel Ardeth's eyes on her.

"Amunet," he repeated. "I take it that she is the guest you have brought along?"

"Yes," Evy said. Amunet could now feel all their eyes on her. She turned her head and gave them all a panicked look before steering her horse away from them to end up on the outside of the large group of Medjai, but still close enough to eavesdrop.

"She hardly seems like she knows what she has gotten herself into," Ardeth commented, making Amunet grip the reins to her horse even tighter.

"She insisted," Evy commented. Ardeth was silently observing Amunet before continuing the conversation.

"So we find this 'cure' for the vessel. If it works…what happens to the Creature?" Evy sighed at this, looking over at Imhotep's limp body.

"He says that he does not wish Anubis to walk the earth because 'his own life is in jeopardy'. He seems to think that after all this is over he can go on and live his life." Both Ardeth and Rick scoffed at this.

"He cannot be allowed to live after his purpose is fulfilled." Ardeth said immediately.

"Thank you!" Rick cried, as if he had finally found someone that understood him, "What I am wondering is why we haven't killed him already."

"He knows more, I know he does," Evy said, giving the High Priest another glance. "We can't risk getting rid of him and finding out later that we still need him." Ardeth and Rick were silent, both agreeing this to be true. Amunet couldn't listen anymore. It was horrible how they talked about him, treating him as if he was just a tool. She might not like him because of his brutality and the fact that he was an immortal mummy, but no one deserved that.

They had been riding all day, Amunet's back hurting something terrible from riding. Ardeth had said that it was a good three days journey to the main Medjai camp. She wondered when they would finally set up camp and get some sleep. The sun was barley visible over the horizon, making everything a deep blood-orange color. Just when Amunet was starting to slip in her saddle from exhaustion, Ardeth called for the party to stop and begin setting up camp.

Amunet dismounted, her legs nearly giving way underneath her, having been stationary for nearly the entire day. She had to admit that the Medjai moved like a well oiled machine as they set up camp. She simply stood by her horse, quickly removing her satchel as one Medjai member took her horse away. Soon enough, tents were set, blankets were given out and fires dotted the site. The sun was gone by the time they were finished, leaving them all shivering by the fires.

Amunet looked around for Imhotep, seeing him awake and on his feet, being kicked over to a fire, hands still tied, eyes still covered. Not allowing any more cruelty, Amunet quickly ran over to hear Ardeth say, "Tie him up tighter. He can sleep outside. We will take turns watching-"

"You won't be tying him up," Amunet panted, finally arriving to the small group that had surrounded Imhotep, whose head turned at the sound of her voice. Ardeth's eyes narrowed at her arrival.

"I will not put everyone in danger for some girl who feels a strange amount of devotion for a monster," he said gruffly. Amunet clenched her jaw and straightened up, holding her bag to her chest.

"In here I have everything that my father wrote down for his research. If you want _any_ of it, you will let this man sleep like any other man would. Without a blind fold, without bondages, and with a blanket. " Ardeth glared down at her, earning more words. "And I will stay watch over him. I'm not bias and therefor won't slit his throat in the middle of the night," she added boldly. "Those are my conditions for access to my father's work." Ardeth took a step forward, dwarfing Amunet considerably.

"You think that if this monster suddenly decides to kill us all in our sleep you can stop him?" he asked. Amunet swallowed, forcing herself to look Ardeth directly in the eyes.

"I've handled him in battle before," she said loudly, leaving out the fact that she had lost. But in all fairness, she had been in nothing but a towel and was fighting him one handed. Ardeth's eyebrows shot up at this. Amunet tilted her chin even farther, as if challenging him. After a short starring contest, Ardeth turned his back.

"Untie him." His men hesitated before carrying out his command. Imhotep blinked a few times and looked directly at Amunet as the blindfold was removed. Ardeth glared at him before walking right up to Amunet as his men removed Imhotep's bonds. "Understand that if he kills anyone in the night, it will be on you. Can you take responsibility for people dying because of your pathetic sympathies?" The words made Amunet feel sick to her stomach and she did not reply. Ardeth couldn't possibly know that she already lived with that horror. "He won't." she replied, hating how her voice seemed to waver. Ardeth walked away after a moment, leading the small group of Medjai away as well, leaving Imhotep and Amunet by their small fire, alone.


	14. Midnight Raid

Imhotep watched as Amunet's entire body seemed to tense as she realized that she was alone with him. He could not keep standing, his entire body was sore from riding that horrid creature like a slaughtered animal. He wobbled slightly and sat down, his head swimming. He hated how much weakness he was showing but it couldn't be helped. He had used up much of his energy back at the museum. The Westings were going to serve as a great problem. He only hoped these incompetent mortals were able to hurry their trip along. Imhotep's thoughts were interrupted by a blanket that was dangling in front of his face.

He looked up to see Amunet with her arm extended, her face contorted into something that looked like an attempt at aggression. He reached forwards to grasp at the fabric but it was pulled away a few inches. He looked up, really not in the mood for a game of cat and mouse, but blinked in surprise as he saw her expression was now one of desperation and pleading.

"Don't make me regret standing up for you," she said in almost a whisper. Imhotep's eyebrows raised at this request. She was a strange girl. He said nothing, but his gaze never left hers. She seemed to take that as a response and tossed the blanket onto his lap, sitting down by the fire and warming herself up. Imhotep threw the blankets around his shoulders. The itchy fabric did nothing for comfort, but at least it was a barrier against the cold wind that was successfully making his weakened frame shake. They both sat in silence for a long while. The camp had a horrid mood about it. There was no laughing, no light conversation, just silence with the occasional dark whisper. It was like he could feel the thousands of eyes burning holes into his skin. He detested having to be kept prisoner by the Med'jai, but at least he was free from the Underworld.

He suspected that Amunet must have vouched for him while unconscious. His thoughts once again roamed to Amunet, drawing his eyes to her. She was staring into the fire, apparently lost in her own thoughts. His curiosity and boredom taking hold, he straightened his back and called out to her gently.

"You told the Med'jai you battled me." He said. His voice earned Amunet's attention. Turning her head, she blinked, as if having trouble processing his words.

"Yes, I suppose I did," she said softly. Imhotep smirked only a little.

"You seemed to have forgotten that you lost that battle." Amunet stiffened at this. Imhotep expected her to make an excuse for her loss, but once again, the golden haired Egyptian surprised him.

"Well, you can hardly say that you won when you avoided killing me at least half a dozen times." Imhotep blinked, eyes narrowing.

"I do not understand you meaning," he said stiffly. At this, Amunet smiled back tiredly.

"I was one-handed, the walls were covered in restored weapons. At any moment you could have grabbed one and killed me, but you didn't." Imhotep remained silent at her observation. It was true. He hadn't. He had hoped that she wouldn't notice.

"And why do you think that is?" he asked, wondering what her conclusion was. Amunet seemingly hadn't been expecting that question. She turned her attention back to the fire and remained in the same position for a long while, trying to work out an answer. It truly was mesmerizing the way the firelight reflected off her hair. Imhotep had never seen anything so strange and entrancing.

"I think that's how you show affection."

Imhotep was shaken out of his trance by her voice. He took a moment to reply her response, his lip curling. Affection? Hardly a word that he associated himself with. Seeing his expression and feeling the need to elaborate, Amunet turned her body to face him. "They told me you have killed a lot of people," she said, suddenly serious, "I can only assume you must see something in me to keep me alive."

She was dangerously close to the right confusion, making Imhotep shift in his seat, avoiding her eyes. His worries were washed away and were replaced by horror and anger as she turned down a very different path with her next words. "Is it because of Anuck-su-Namun?" His head snapped to face her with such an expression of hate and loathing that it made Amunet freeze, a terrified look on her face. He tossed the blanket from his shoulders and was suddenly standing over her, eyes one fire.

"Whatever you might have heard, you are greatly mistaken to think that you would serve any purpose relating to her." He spat, avoiding his lover's name. Amunet was sprawled on the sand, eyes wide with shock and horror. Every muscle in his body seemed to be shaking, fueled by the rage and pain he was feeling. He stopped upon seeing everyone in camp freezing, eyes on him and Amunet, a few slowly moving towards them. He closed his eyes, taking a long moment to calm himself down before falling back into his seated position, elbows on knees, head bent.

Silence stretched on as he let himself calm down. Not hearing any footsteps from the Med'jai, he considered himself lucky. On edge, tired, shaking, he was a mess. Something that he disliked very much. The fire snapped and popped, the sand rustling as Amunet sat back up.

"You must have loved her very much." She said, her voice shaking. Imhotep raised his head, glaring at Amunet. She was breaching very dangerous territory. His gaze alone was enough to shut her up. Grateful for the topic to be dropped, Imhotep retrieved him blanket and wrapped it around him, eyes still closed, as if trying to erase the memories that the girl had brought up. A sudden presence next to him told him that Amunet had taken up the spot on his left only a foot or two away. He refused to speak to her for at least ten minutes before the silence and inactivity drove him mad.

"Your tattoo." He said, not looking at her. "Did your father encourage that?"

"You can't hold back everything about your past and just expect me to reveal everything about mine," she replied, her voice drawn out and soft. He bitterly accepted that she had a point. He turned his head and saw that she was lying on the sand, blanket on top and her eyes closed. Her breathing was on the verge of becoming deep and steady, a sign that she would fall asleep in only a few more seconds. Imhotep's dark eyes were fixated on the peaceful one that was Amunet's.

She truly was a foolish creature.

* * *

Imhotep awoke to the sound of yells and screams. He shot up, looking around, trying to remember where he was. He had fallen asleep? Curse the plague that was mortality! He scrambled to his feet to discover that Amunet was no longer beside him. Panic struck him and he whirled around. The tents surrounding them were ablaze, the orange and red flames making the sand around them look like rolling lava. The Westings. They had caught up with them.

The Med'jai were battling small groups of red robbed figures, while other tried to put out the fires. Imhotep ran into the thick of the battle, eyes scanning for Amunet. He spotted the O'Connells in the heat of gun fire, but no sign of the golden haired Egyptian. A Westing rushed towards Imhotep, sword raised in the air, screaming with murder in his eyes. Without a second's hesitation, Imhotep's hand shot out and plunged into the man's chest. The next second, the man crumpled at the Mummy's feet, his scarlet blood dripping from Imhotep's finger tips.

It was then he heard her voice. Not her voice so much as a battle cry. Running through the flames and the waves of Med'jai and Westings, Imhotep finally spotted her. He had battled her only once, and that was one handed and yet she had handled herself amazingly well. Now she was two-handed, with a sword. Imhotep was near enough that he could have run to the rescue, but something made him stop.

It was the look in her eyes. It was a crazed, furious, animalistic fury that had taken over not only her expressions, but her body as well. Up until that point, she had simply been defending, but now she was on the attack. Westings were flocking towards her, prepared and striking to kill. Imhotep watched as her demeanor changed from one of defense into one of a warrior. Her face, simple and beautiful, managed to contort itself into the most terrifying expression as she switched the sword to her other hand and pounced.

There was blood a second later, splattering onto the sand, gushing up from the slashes and gashes that Amunet's sword was making. Imhotep watched with wide eyes as Amunet proceeded to dismember and slaughter every Westing in her vicinity. By the end, she herself was covered in blood, the scarlet liquid reaching up her arms, covering her torso and freckling her face. Standing over the pile of bodies, the flames from the tents made the blood look almost like dark liquid gold. She was panting deeply and look up, her eyes meeting Imhotep's.

Her warrior expression slowly began to melt away when she saw him. First was fatigue, then confusion, and then absolute horror as she looked down at the bodies around her feet and the blood covering her body. Imhotep could hardly believe it as well. This was the girl that he had carried back from the well? The one who had practically fainted? Had she really just slaughtered near fifteen men? Those were the questions that Amunet's was apparently asking herself as well.

The fires around them were slowly being put out by the Med'jai, who were using all the water they had brought. The Westings must have been defeated. Amunet dropped the sword, brown eyes wide as she looked down at her blood stained hands. Had she never killed someone before? Imhotep wondered. Mortals were like flies to him, there was really nothing so traumatic about the experience. But when Amunet looked back up at him with the horror and the pain on her face, something shifted inside him. He stepped forward, only to have Amunet take a step back, shaking her head. She was about to lose it.

"A fat lot of help you were!" O'Connell shouted, jogging up to Imhotep with Evy at his side. "What the hell were you doing-" He stopped upon seeing Amunet in a pile of bodies and blood.

"Oh God," Evy whispered, also seeing her. Imhotep ignored the O'Connells and moved forward, hands outstretched.

"Amunet."

"Oh God, I-" Amunet stuttered, her voice raspy and cracked. "I killed- I killed- I'm a murder."

"Amunet come to me," Imhotep said in the gentlest voice he could muster. She stared down at her hands, the blood glistening.

"Get- get if off," she whispered, starting to rub her hands together. Imhotep looked at Evy for only a second.

"Blanket." Evy nodded her head and ran off, leaving Rick and Imhotep to stare on as Amunet slowly started to break down.

"God, please God, get it off!" she shouted, her voice rising as she tried to wipe off the blood from her dress, only smearing it around. "Get it off! GET IT OFF!" she screamed, backing up and tripping over one of the bodies. Landing on her back, she came face to face with the dead eyes of the man. She broke out into maniacal screams, thrashing and trying to get the blood off with no success. Imhotep swooped it, hovering over her and gripping her wrists.

"Amunet," he said, but she was beyond the point of recognizing who was who anymore or even recognizing her own name. All she could scream in the form of words was "get it off", over and over again. Imhotep would no longer appeal to her humanity. She was over reacting. So she had killed a few Westings, he killed thousands and he was not squabbling in the sand like a child! She wanted the blood off? He would get it off. Evy had reappeared at this point, blanket clutched in her hands, watching from her husband's side.

Imhotep gripped Amunet's clothes and started to remove them as best he could considering every limb on her body was thrashing around violently. He expected her to protest once she realized what he was doing, but she did the latter. She started stripping her clothes as fast as she could. Imhotep called for the blanket before things got too revealing. Taking the blanket from Evy, he turned his head away and offered it to Amunet. She raised a shaky hand and took it, standing while wrapping it around her. Her brown eyes starred at the dead bodies around her feet.

"Enough," Imhotep whispered. He gripped her shoulders and steered her towards Evy. "Here." He said, as if he thought Evy, being a woman, was the best one to take care of the traumatized girl. Evy nodded and held Amunet close as she lead her away. Rick watched them leave and suddenly turned to see Ardeth running towards them.

"That was only a scouting group," he said, panting, a few cuts through his shirt.

"Only a scouting group?" Rick repeated in disbelief. "So there are more coming?" Ardeth nodded.

"We best move on as fast as we can. We plan on riding through the night so we should arrive to the camp by the late evening."

Imhotep, not able to understand their conversation, looked on after where Evy and Amunet had disappeared. That had been very close. He was right, the Westings were proving to be a serious problem. He only hoped that they could reach this Med'jai camp soon. It felt like he was running out of time.


	15. Behind the Immortal Soul

Amunet swayed in her saddle, eyes blank and focused on the back of her horse's neck. They had left almost immediately after the Westing attack, which meant that there had been no rest for the remainder of the night. It was already noon day, the sun stationary in the sky, making the party boil and sweat under its hot rays. It could have been a year or a couple of minutes for Amunet. Time did not seem to be working for her.

She rubbed her stomach, gripping onto the new clothes that Evy had lent her. Even though they had no blood, she could still feel the light pink stains on her skin where she had not been able to remove the blood, no matter how hard she had scrubbed. She shuddered, memories of last night flooding her mind. It had been terrifying. She had snapped, lost all control of her limbs. She wanted to tell herself that it was her desire to live that had drove her to kill those men, and perhaps part of it was. But the rest of it was the training her father had put her through. She was a killer. Closing her eyes, Amunet's brow scrunched as she tried to make everything she was feeling go away. She felt like she might throw up…

"We met in the Pharaoh's palace."

Amunet looked up to suddenly find Imhotep riding beside her. He looked utterly ridiculous straddling his horse, the Med'jai having tied his hands to the saddle. Swallowing the bile that had been burning its way up her throat, Amunet blinked. She had no idea what he was talking about. They had never met previous from yesterday. Imhotep looked towards the horizon, his face blank.

"Anuk-su-namun," he said, his eyes fluttering just a little as he finally said her name. "She had become the Pharaoh's mistress. A beauty, I fell in love with her spirit and her fire. In return, she fell in love with my devotion and stubbornness." Amunet suddenly realized that Imhotep was touching on the one topic that seemed to send him into a dangerous rage. She remained silent however, knowing how telling her this must be hard. Indeed, his lips were quivering as he bite down on his tongue.

"Our love was a crime. No other man was allowed to touch her, only the Pharaoh himself. Yet we pressed on in our dangerous game. That was until the Pharaoh discovered us. We killed him." Amunet looked down at her still pink hands, shuddering once again. "It was then that Anuk-su-namun took her own life." Amunet looked up at him with shock, eyes wide and full of pity. Imhotep himself did nothing to indicate this bothered him. "She knew that I was the only one that could resurrect her. And I believe that the O'Connell's filled you in on what happened after I was mummified."

Amunet nodded, even though Imhotep was not paying her any attention. Evy had been meant as a sacrifice for Anuck-su-namun. She remembered the O'Connells giving her a quick run through of their adventure back at the museum. Was the reason Imhotep did not want to talk about his lover because her resurrection failed? But according to what Evy had said, it was entirely possible that he might be able to raise her again. So why was he so…himself whenever Anuck-su-namun was brought up? Amunet had never been in love herself, but she had the impression that one should be happy in regards to the person they loved. Amunet suddenly felt Imhotep's eyes on her and turned her head. He was waiting.

"What?" she asked, flushing a little. Was she supposed to make a comment on the tale? She had utterly no idea what to say!

"I have told you half of my story regarding your curiosities towards Anuck-su-namun. Now I wish to know part of your story. Your tattoo." He reminded her. Amunet flushed red. She had made no such agreement, but at least he had offered something first before asking. Clearing her throat and wishing for a long drink of water, Amunet petted her horse's mane while chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"It was my father's idea," she said finally after a long pause. "I have had it as long as I can remember. He had one as well. An Eye of Horus, but it was on the back of his neck." She reached up and gripped her shoulder, as if simply talking about the tattoo made herself more physically aware of it. "It is something of a family tradition, although my mother never…she never had one as far as I knew." She stopped there, feeling that she had said enough. There was a long pause. Amunet had the feeling that Imhotep was about to speak when the party stopped for food and drink.

Amunet slid off her saddle and walked around, hesitating before deciding to help Imhotep down before the Med'jai could. He seemed able to handle himself, but with his hands tied Amunet felt the need to gently rest her hands on hips to guide him safely down. He stepped away from her after gaining his balance and looking around. Judging by the cracking of his lips, he was just as thirsty as she was. Everyone was sitting in small circles, handing out their supplies. Both Imhotep and Amunet were left to stand awkwardly by their horses, outcasts to the groups.

"I'll get us some food. Don't go anywhere," she said, as if he had anywhere to go with miles of sand around them. Amunet took off towards the group with the O'Connells, rubbing her hands together and feeling nervous.

"Um…Evy?" she asked, appealing to the only other women in the entire group. Evy looked up, giving a kind smile.

"Amunet! You looked parched. Would you like some food and water? We have plenty to go around." Amunet smiled in return but cast a glance over her shoulder.

"Thank you, yes please. But I…well, may I have enough for two please?" she asked. Evy's eyes flicked over towards Imhotep who seemed to be waiting patiently by the horses. The other members of the group stiffened and did not look at all please, but much to Amunet's relief, Evy smiled and handed over two medium sized sacks.

Murmuring another thank you before any of the men could protest, Amunet turned on her heel and walked back over to Imhotep. She found that when she spent time worrying about others, she had little time to worry about herself, or thinking about things she wished would go away. She reached out to hand Imhotep his share of food before realizing he was still tied up. Looking back at the group, she touched Imhotep's arm and walked a little ways away from the rest of the party. She led him until they were a comfortable ways away from the prying eyes of the Med'jai, but were still able to be seen.

"Sit with you backs to them," she said as she herself sat down. Imhotep complied, crossing his legs and weightlessly, and rather gracefully taking a seat, considering his hands were still bound. Pulling a knife out from beneath her robes, she quickly cut Imhotep's bonds, hoping that no one else had noticed. Imhotep rung his wrists and took the small sack Amunet offered him. Amunet opened her own sack and found a small animal skin filled with water. She tilted it back and lapped away at the cool stream, closing her eyes in ecstasy. Water seemed so much colder when it was drunk out in the middle of the dessert. She turned her focus to the food and started eating in silence.

"Do you wish me to continue?" Imhotep asked. Amunet looked up, still chewing on the salted pork that was in their sacks. Yes, she wanted to know more. But now she knew that whatever part of his life she inquired about, she would have to return it, and some aspects of her life were not things she wanted to talk about. Swallowing her pork she quickly found a solution.

"Yes, but…I wish to know about your childhood."

Imhotep blinked. He had obviously not been expecting to tell that part of his story. Amunet prayed that he would comply. She wasn't ready to tell the end of her own story. He glanced at her for a moment, then turned his head to look out at the golden horizon, silently eating away at the small roll in his hand. The sunlight seemed to dance off his copper skin. She had not noticed before, so much had been happening, but Imhotep…well, we was rather…handsome for a mummy. Catching herself thinking about him in such a way, she felt her face flush and turned her face to admire the horizon when he back to speak.

"I was born and lived in the City of the Dead," he began. "I hardly remember ever leaving it in my youth, and I had no real desire to leave. It was a respected city, one focused on the Gods. The entire Egyptian life is centered on the potential death that awaits us all." Amunet could not help but think that was a little dismal. As an Egyptian herself, she knew how important the afterlife was to those who still believed. Amunet herself did not believe in such things. At least, she did not until yesterday. "My mother and father were loyal to Egyptian life, and more loyal to their deaths," he continued. His voice seemed to be over taken with some kind of misery, causing Amunet to give him a sideways glance. "There are many enemies to the Gods, those prideful mortals who attempt to destroy them through their servants. My father knew much magic, and worked in the City of the Dead because of it. Both of my parents saw a great future for me at the palace, and in the afterlife. They were both murdered. It was a simple robbing. They had been returning from their prayers at the temple."

Amunet was now looking at him without trying to hide it, her eyes wide. Imhotep felt her gaze and turned his head to look at her directly.

"My only wish then was to eventually join them in the afterlife." Amunet's throat grew thick and she had to compose herself.

"But…you were cursed." She whispered, clarifying what she already knew. "You are immortal." Imhotep did nothing but look at her. That was enough conformation to prove that she was right. How horrible. And the only reason he was this way was because of Amuck-Su-Namun. As if had read her mind, Imhotep spoke up once more.

"I knew the risks in loving Anuck-Su-Namun. Granted, immortality was not exactly one I had foreseen. But you, who are in your youth, have yet to know what love can drive a person to do." For a murder and a mummy, Imhotep had the ability to be strangely poetic. Trying not to allow any tears to fall, Amunet forgot that it was her turn to speak and instead inquired further.

"What happened to her?" she asked in barley a whispered. She could see Imhotep's entire body tense and he turned his attention back to the horizon, taking a rather violent bite out of his roll. Amunet shrunk a little. There was so much raw emotion in the immortal being before her, she remembered that he was very unstable.

"If you wish to know the entire detailed tale, you may address the O'Connells." He said darkly. At first Amunet thought that was all she would get from him, but he took a moment before speaking again. "All that you must know to end the tale is that I succeeded in raising Anuck-Su-Namun a second time. But instead of simply being thankful, I lusted after more power. In the end, I was dangling above the pits of hell with O'Connell by my side." Amunet thought that he was simply making a metaphor, but the way his entire frame shuddered, Amunet's faced flushed in horror. "O'Connell's wife came to him and pulled him out. I called to Anuck-Su-Namun…she saw me…and she ran." Amunet felt a long breath of air escape her lungs and large tears roll down her cheeks. Turning away, she quickly wiped them away. If Imhotep had noticed, he had shown no sign of having done so.

So he had lost everyone, as well as having been abandoned by his one and only love. It was such a tragic tale, Amunet thought her own story paled in comparison.

"I willingly embraced the Underworld. And you know my reason for being here now," he said, still tense and refusing to look at her. "I thought death would be a release from my pain in life. But they significantly dulled the description of the fires of Hell. I would much rather live on the surface for all eternity than enter death again. I will never be reunited with my family because of my actions. They are in a place that I am not worthy to enter."

Amunet looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth quivering in an attempt to say something to him. She had thought that he was a lost soul before, being hounded and attacked by the Med'jai and the O'Connells, with a dark past. His story was more than she had ever imagined. She had the impression that she was the only one he had told about his past since his lover, and even then, she wasn't sure he had told her. She finally received the courage to open her mouth to speak when calls from the rest of the group came from behind them. Imhotep swiftly packed the rest of his food and stood, looking down at Amunet.

"You will tell me your story when we ride." He said and walked back to his horse, as if completely aloof by all that he had revealed to her. Amunet blinked, a feeling of dread washing over her. She didn't want to relate her tale. It seemed superficial compared to his. But he wanted to know, and all she could do was comply with his wishes.


	16. Bloody Past

"I am an only child."

Imhotep turned his gaze away from the burning horizon to look at Amunet. They had been riding for an hour or so. During that time, Amunet had been silent, chewing on her lip and seeming very interested in the loose strappings of her saddle. He said nothing and did nothing to press her. She would begin in her own time, and it seemed that time was now. She did not look him in the eyes, but rather gave her horse's neck her attention, stroking its mane.

"My mother and father never wanted another child. They said that I was all they ever needed. They taught me many things about the old world, the language, the art, the culture, the…lore." Imhotep watched her with mild curiosity as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. He said nothing, but focused on keeping his balance on the horse while waiting patiently. "My father was protective," Amunet continued, "He taught me how to fight. Not simple self-defense but…really fight." Colored came to Amunet's cheeks. Imhotep did not think it something to be ashamed about. She was talented, and as time had proven, her skills were useful.

"He was a scholar as well as a father, which made him much wiser than myself. We all knew his knowledge but…at times I believe his mind prevented him for allowing me to form my own." So far, Imhotep did not understand how Amunet's past had made her the way she was. He began to look disinterested and returned his gaze to the horizon. He caught Amunet looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"I wanted to go outside more. I grew tired of lessons and history. I wanted to meet people, to explore the world. I learned, by my own mistake, what happens when you let your guard down." Ah, here they were. The root of Amunet, the raw and fleshy past that served as her mold to who she was. She was looking away from him, earning Imhotep's attention. Her dark eyes were wide and blank, as if the mere memory of the events from her past had reset her brain and left her thoughtless. Imhotep shifted in his saddle, the leather hot, burning his thighs. Curse this slow going. Horses were meant to pull chariots, not to have humans strapped to their backs. He tugged on the reigns and guided his horse so that he could reach across the grip Amunet's shoulder.

"You were in your youth," he said as gently as he could. He was not very talented in the art of empathy, at least, not as of late. Amunet looked at him with such fear, one would think that Imhotep had told her all she had to do was jump of a cliff into a pit of snakes.

"I was ten years," she whispered, her eyes becoming moist. "A girl of ten years is old enough to be accountable for her actions. I take full responsibility for what I did and age is no proper excuse." Imhotep's brow furrowed. The mental abuse that Amunet placed upon herself concerned him if only slightly. He removed his hand and waited. Amunet looked away and took a shaky breath, clearing her throat and tilting her head back to keep her tears in her head. "I wished to explore outside my home. My father forbade me to leave without an escort at all times, either him or my mother. Rebelliousness and curiosity made me a fool and I left in the evening. I explored the city, saw the night life. I was lucky that I was not robbed, murdered, or raped. A girl of ten should never wander the streets at night." Imhotep nodded his head, not in agreement, but as an indication for her to go on.

"Nothing happened to me while I was out," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It was plain, simple. I was missing nothing or real importance. I returned home and that's…that's when…" Amunet covered her mouth with her hand and smashed her eyes shut. Imhotep watched her, brow twitching slightly. He said nothing, although his mind burned with curiosity. Amunet, who was no longer able to hold back the tears, looked at him. There again was that expression. The unearthly terror, the terror when the bucket of blood had spilled on her, when she stood over the hill of bodies, when she looked dead mortals in the eyes. "My mother was…on the ground." She whispered, looking down at the sand below them, as if her mother was there. She gestured with her hand, her face pale. "Blood…all over the floor. She wasn't alive, there was…no way she could be."

Blood. The thing that seemed to trigger Amunet into freezing up and loosing control. Imhotep made a mental note to try and not spill anymore blood in front of her. She was fragile enough as it was, and after all, crushing bones proved more painful. Amunet swallowed, still looking down at the slow passing sand. "My father was in the next room," she continued. "He was still alive…but only a little. I tried to help, but there was so much blood and I was loosing him. Whoever had done it…they had slashed his throat. Blood was gushing, I couldn't stop it…" At this, Amunet looked up at Imhotep, looking pained. "I watched my father die. I saw the light leave his eyes. They turned…cold. They weren't his eyes. They were so still…" Fat tears rolled down Amunet's face and she turned away, unable to stop her sobs.

Imhotep watched her, face blank. He knew what it was like to loose his own parents. His own experience had been similar, and yet different all at the same time. Amunet's age at the time was the factor that pained him a small amount. He looked off into the horizon, his expression twisted and rather conflicted.

"You were but a child," he said. "There was nothing you could have done." Amunet tried to quell her tears, turning her head to look at him.

"But if I had been there-"

"Then you would have been killed as well," Imhotep said a little too harshly. His response stopped Amunet's tears at once, her wide eyes blinking up at him. Guilt, an emotion that did not often plague him, made him reconsider his words. He cleared his throat and looked away. "A girl of ten could have done nothing against the men who murdered your parents. If anything, I am sure that your father is happy you are alive now." There was a long silence.

"Do…Do you really think so?" she asked. Imhotep did not look at her as he nodded his head once as confirmation of his beliefs. More silence followed. The sun beat down, making Imhotep's skin sizzle and sweat. The leather beneath him was salty with his seat and was giving him the most infuriating rash. The O'Connells could not have condemned him to a more humiliating position.

"Imhotep?" He turned his head, looking right at Amunet. She looked at him with such a strange amount of hope that it made him lean away in mild suprise. He had never been looked at in such a way since Anuck-Su-Namun had trusted him with her resurrection. That did not bode well in his mind. Amunet leaned in her saddle, her hope mixed with hesitation and a dash of fear. "You are a Priest?"

"Yes." He asked, thinking that this fact had already been established. Amunet gripped her reigns tighter and bit her lip. Her eyes were still rimmed with red from her tears only a few minutes ago.

"Do you thing that…when I die, that I will go to the good place?" The good place. She worded it so primitively that Imhotep found his lips twitching into a smirk, one that almost verged on a smile. Another thought crossed his mind however and the potential smile vanished. He blinked, turning his face away from her and looking at the large group of horses in front of them.

"I can hardly tell you. The afterlife is different for each soul. It would depend on your deeds."

"Oh."

The breathy exclamation told Imhotep everything. She knew she had killed, and he had now just extinguished any hope of her joining her parents in the afterlife. It was almost eerie how similar their circumstances were. It was also as if it was supposed to make everything harder for Imhotep. But it was not something Imhotep could dwell on. All the same…He turned his head and looked at Amunet. She was now faced straight ahead, her shoulders weighed down by the sudden sadness that had over taken her. Her eyes were glazed, her thin face gaunt with trails. Imhotep, whose horse was only a foot or two away, found himself taking her hand in his.

Amunet looked up, her eyes trying to meet his. Imhotep refused to look her in the eyes after having taken her hand, but he felt her grip tighten around his just a little. It was a gesture of understanding, nothing more. They rode on, the sun following then across the sky until the golden sand started to turn crimson. They had nearing a large gorge, a rocky formatting jutting out of the sea of sand. The party of horses stopped at its base. Imhotep saw the Med'jai group's leader turn and head towards himself and Amunet. He dropped her hand abruptly and returned it to the saddle. Ardeth stopped in front of them, his eyes dark and brooding under the shadow of his brow.

"We are the entrance to the Med'jai camp," he said, glaring at the both Amunet and Imhotep. Imhotep studied the maze of rocks curiously. "The Creature shall be bound and blindfolded once again. Unless his protector has some valid reason why he should not." Imhotep's eyes flicked towards Amunet, whose dreary disposition was replaced by frustration and her general dislike for Ardeth. She looked as if she might say something but shook her head. Imhotep had no initial reaction to this. It was logical that she should hold her tongue on the topic. There was nothing she could say that would stop them from taking as many of their mortal precautions as they believed necessary.

Imhotep held out his hands and a few other Med'jai approached and leaned in their saddles to bind his hands. He took a final look at Amunet, who looked to the formation of rock then back at him with a worried expression before they blindfolded him. He said nothing, but gave her a small, knowing smile before everything returned to darkness.


End file.
